


House Swap

by ALGrace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Gryffindor, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Magic, Other, Ravenclaw, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALGrace/pseuds/ALGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sorting hat in Hogwarts is sick, and accidentally sorts four students incorrectly</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sorting

The hat muttered over her head as it concealed her view from the Great Hall.  
“Yes, yes, what a thirst for knowledge,” it muttered. “Willing to work hard. Hard. Hard.”  
She paused, listening to the hat, somewhat confused. Then she felt it. She could smell the parchment of old books, cool nights under the stars. Blue and bronze swam before her eyes. She felt her heart soar like an eagle. She could feel her house calling her from the depths of the hat. Then:  
“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat shouted. The girl snapped out of her thoughts at that. The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers while the rest of the hall applauded. The professor with vivid green eyes smiled gently and lifted the hat from her head, gesturing to the table. She stood, still confused and feeling a bit sick. This was wrong. She could feel it. She sat down among the sea of red and gold, feeling like it would set her on fire.  
“Hey, what’s your name again?” an enormous man with curly red hair pulled back into a ponytail leaned across the table offering his hand.  
“Cassandra!” she shouted over the noise, putting her hand in his enormous one.  
“Nice to meet you, Cassie! I'm Mason!” he shouted, shaking her hand vigorously.  
He let her go and sat down and she rubbed her arm.  
“It’s Cassandra,” she said, but nobody heard her.

The boy took a shaky breath. The hat was muttering in his ear.  
“Kindness abound, and a deep appreciation for team work,” the hat said. The boy felt at ease, as if he were curled up next to the fire with a cup of tea and a good book. He felt at home, surrounded by those he loved. Yellow and black banners swam behind his closed eyes. Then the hat started snarling.  
“Vinegar, the cup, tap the barrels with the house elves. Dig badger, dig. You are in trouble,” it said. The boy opened his eyes to stare at the inner brim of the hat.  
“SLYTHERIN!”  
Cold dread crashed over the boy as the professor lifted the hat from his head. He looked up at him, right into his green eyes that could assess your soul from across the room. The professor looked curiously at the hat, then back at the boy. He glanced at the headmaster and gestured to the green and silver table that was cheering wildly.  
The boy sat down and was clapped on the back as he took his place among them. He would make the best of this. He always did.  
“Hey, kid. Who did they say you were again?” a boy with his brown hair neatly combed to the side and back asked; a wicked grin lighting up his face.  
“Thomas,” he smiled warmly, hoping to make a new friend, and on the first night too!  
The kids around him went quiet.  
“I meant your last name,” the boy said, looking around at his companions, all who looked just as mildly confused as him.  
“Oh, Ferrara,” Thomas supplied. They all stared at him.  
“Are you…Are you a pureblood?” the boy asked, confusion clear on his face now. The girl next to him slapped his arm.  
“Rude,” she admonished.  
“Oh I don’t mind,” Thomas smiled at her and she watched him incredulously. “I’m a halfblood.”  
Everyone around him sucked the air from him. He heard all their disapproval under their breaths and felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like his throat was closing.  
“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat shouted, and he looked into his lap as a petite girl with long, strawberry blonde hair went to the table decked with happy faces and genuine smiles. Thomas felt more alone than he had getting on the train, watching his parents’ faces slide away from view.

“Oh, the ambition in you. What a ferocity!” the hat muttered. The boy underneath straightened his back, proud. He could feel his entire body strengthen and flex. He could take on the world, decked in silver and green.  
“A snake. A snake in the garden. Dig badger, dig! What trouble.” The boy paused and listened to the hats ramblings, confused and a bit scared. What was going on?  
“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted. The boy felt his dreams shatter.  
“What?” he exclaimed. The professor lifting the hat from him raised an eyebrow in surprise.  
“That hat is wrong, I need to be sorted again,” the boy said. The professor glanced at the list again.  
“The hat is never wrong, Bryce. We cannot re-sort you. Please, take your seat.”   
Bryce knew a command when he heard one, and stood, his head held high, and marched to the table of cheering kids in black and yellow.  
“Welcome, Bryce!” they called. Anyone within reach shook his hand and all were offering drinks.  
“What’s your favorite? If we don’t have it we can get some.” A brunette asked from his left.  
“Welcome to the house!” a boy with a prefect badge said from across the table. “I’m Dallas. If you need anything, you let me know.  
“Talbot. Bryce Talbot.”  
Dallas paused, but his smile was back in an instant.  
“Of course, Bryce. We heard them call your name. We remember all of them so if they come to our table, we all know who they are so we can welcome them accordingly.”  
Bryce scowled and Dallas looked upset. He hadn’t meant to offend him. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Oh, the nerve on you. You're a cheeky little thing aren’t you?” the hat murmured. The girl tried to stifle her smile. Her father had always said the same thing. “Pride for yourself, and your friends, yes you’ll belong quite nicely.”  
The girl lifted her chin, and could practically smell the red and gold.  
“Know, no, knew, none, several?” the hat muttered. The girl frowned, wondering if the hat was all right.  
“I’m fine! Never better!” it snapped. “Fine. Fine. Fine. Fin. Finally. Financially. Finicky. RAVENCLAW!”  
It screamed out loud.  
“What on earth?” the girl asked. The hat was lifted from her head. The sea of first years was gone. She was the last one. Had the hat been too tired to sort her properly?  
“There was something wrong with the hat. I’m in the wrong house,” she told the professor who was walking the hat back to the stand in front of the table lined with professors and the headmaster.  
“The hat is never wrong,” the headmaster said, her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes sharp, regardless of her visible age. She gestured to the cheering Ravenclaws.  
“Join your new house,” she said. The girl paused, wanting to fight, but the finality in Headmaster McGonagall’s comment made her think this was not up for debate. She rose and joined the bronze and blue.  
“What’s your name?” a girl who was pulling pink stripes out of her hair asked.  
“Valerie MacLachlan,” she answered sullenly. She was in the wrong house. She could feel it.  
“Claudia Bennett,” she extended her hand to her, and Valerie shook it, but found her hand covered in small flecks of what looked like glitter when she took it back.  
“Oh, sorry. I was divining with fish scales earlier. Don’t worry, it washes right off.”  
“Actually, if you mix warm water with three drops of sandalwood oil, it would come off easier that way,” the boy next to her said.  
“I believe any oil would suffice in making scale flecks come loose,” the girl opposite him said.  
“Sandalwood has a certain property,” he rebutted. “It has to be sandalwood.”  
The girl whipped a book out from her bag, which looked way too small to contain even a book half the size, and cracked it open. The two of them poured over its contents until the girl shouted in triumph.  
Valerie propped her head up on the table, bored.


	2. Thomas

Thomas followed the prefect down, down, down into the dungeons of Hogwarts castle. A chill took over him as the prefect came to a blank stretch of wall.  
“Now this brick”, he pointed to one dead center in the wall, “Is the one you whisper the password to.” Thomas looked closely, and could see a tiny serpent carved into the lower right side of it.  
“The password changes every fortnight, and the new ones will always be posted on the notice boards in the common room.” The prefect turned to the wall and leaned in.  
“Veritaserum,” he hissed, so quietly Thomas nearly missed it. The wall separated and slid apart. The large room was decorated with expensive-looking black leather couches and hanging green orbs that glowed. At the very back, there were four huge windows looking out into the depths of the black lake. Thomas forced down a shiver. The whole common room was stunning and chic, but cold. He needed to talk to Headmaster McGonagall. He was in the wrong house.  
“Follow me,” the prefect said. He directed all the first years to their dorms, who all seemed much less in awe than Thomas. They all looked like they were coming home, or had been here before. They looked like they owned the place.  
Thomas entered his room, which was thankfully warmer than the common room. Silk sheets adorned four beds arranged in a circle. Silver and green drapes hung from the ceiling above each bed. Thomas saw his trunk at the foot of one, sticking out like a sore thumb. Light brown, careworn, with stickers from the places in the world he would like to visit decorating it. He walked over to it and began rummaging through it, looking for his pajamas and a book to read.  
“That’s yours?” one of his dorm mates, a boy with tanned skin, tawny hair and yellow eyes asked. Thomas nearly reeled back from him. There was something feral in the boys’ eyes that scared him. He swallowed hard.  
“Yeah, this one’s mine,” he said, forcing a smile on his face. He held out a slightly trembling hand.  
“I’m Thomas, nice to meet you.”  
The boy looked at Thomas’s hand in distain. “What was your last name?”  
“Oh, Ferrara.”  
The boy scoffed. “Wellesley,” he said shortly. “Leo Wellesley.” And walked away.  
He would have to start introducing himself like everyone else did in this house, Thomas decided. Last name first, then repeated after saying the first, an air of entitlement surrounding him. He could do that; he could fit in. His mother had always said be himself, and he would, he would just adapt to the basic social structure to get him started.  
“I thought it was a joke,” said another boy as he walked in, all limbs and dark skin. “But we really do have a halfblood in Slytherin."  
He looked older than eleven, but popped open the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out monogrammed pajamas.  
“I didn’t catch your name,” Leo said casually. The other boy held his head high.  
“Zabini. Owen Zabini,” Leo’s eyes widened for a moment, before his face split open into the semblance of a smile, clearly practiced a thousand times in the mirror.  
“Wellesley, Leo,” he held out a hand. Owen shook it. Thomas said nothing, focusing instead on digging out his book. Then the last boy walked in.  
He had a mop of pale brown hair, soft eyes and a general look of…well, curiosity. Something none of the other Slytherins had. Then his eyes met Thomas’s.  
He face softened, only for a moment, before turning to distain.  
“Oh excellent, we’re rooming with the halfblood,” he stalked into the room to the last trunk and quickly pulled pajamas from it, changed and got into bed. He glanced at Thomas one more time, almost with pity, before drawing the drapes closed. Leo and Owen quickly followed suit. Soon, it was just Thomas standing in a room with three other beds all closed off from one another.  
He sighed softly and finally found his book. He pulled the firefly charm his parents had given to him before he left out of his pocket. It flew over to his bed and landed over the headboard, emitting a soft and pleasant yellow light. He smiled to himself and he pulled his drapes closed as well. He had his sunshine and he would make it through.


	3. Bryce

Bryce followed a girl prefect with a giant amount of curls and a splattering of freckles down through Hogwarts. They arrived at the kitchen corridor, something Bryce had never even thought about before, and was a bit uneasy about. He had no knowledge about how to present one’s self in a kitchen, but was spared when the prefect showed them a cluster of barrels among the countless others.  
“This is the entrance to Hufflepuff common room,” she said with a smile. She pointed to the one in the middle. “You can see the badger marked on it, so you will always find it. We’re also the only house that has a defense mechanism if you get our password wrong. You have to tap on the barrels in the rhythm of Hel-ga Huff-le-puff.”  
She whipped out her wand and tapped twice, then three times. The barrels all slid open and there was a large tunnel leading down.  
“If you get that wrong you get a barrel full of vinegar dumped on you,” she said with a wink, before jumping into the tunnel and sliding all the way down.  
The rest of the first years followed with glee, whooping and laughing on the way down.  
The ride made Bryce nauseous.  
He was the last one down, and looked around himself as the barrels slid closed at the top of the tunnel. The room was decked in yellow and black. Porthole windows looked out at ground level, where night had officially closed in. Over-stuffed couches and ancient armchairs surrounded the fire. A bookshelf lined one wall and a small tea station lined the opposite. Exotic plants decorated the room, either sitting on shelves or hanging from the ceiling. The whole room was warm, and comfortable, and terribly tacky. It all looked worn, and cheap. Bryce frowned. Maybe he could get his father to make a donation to Hogwarts. He couldn’t imagine the state of the other houses.  
“And if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your dorms!” the prefect finished her speech about Hufflepuff. He followed her to a round door with a copper handle in the middle. He opened it as she left, saying if he needed anything please ask, and walked inside.  
He stopped in horror. The four-poster beds hand black and yellow hangings, but the beds were all decorated with patchwork quilts, all stitched together by someone’s, or several someone’s, clumsy hands. Copper lamps cast a soft glow over everything, and Bryce spotted his trunk immediately. Black and sleek, it looked like the only thing of value in the room. He decided he would write his father for a blanket in the morning. He opened his trunk, looking at his neatly folded clothes and arranged books and supplies. He had no idea what was even in here. Everything had been packed by his house elf.  
“Wow! These rooms are so cool!” he turned to look at chubby faced boy, all wide eyes and gappy grin. He still had three teeth growing in.  
“Hi! I’m Ben,” he said, sticking out his hand.  
“Talbot. Bryce Talbot,” he said, shaking the boys hand.  
“I like your earring,” Ben said, pointing to the silver loop in Bryce’s right ear. “It adds to your look very nicely.” He smiled and walked over to one of the three other beat-up old trunks sitting at the foot of one of the beds.  
“Hello there,” another boy strode in, an easy smile across his face, hands in pockets. He shook hands first with Ben, then came over to Bryce.  
“I’m Paul,” he said, offering one of his hands. Bryce took in the brown curls that tumbled into his eyes.  
“Bryce,” he said, quickly adapting to the new set of social rules.  
“Wow, your trunk looks really nice,” Paul said, looking down. Bryce couldn’t help puffing himself up.  
“My father said it was expensive, but wanted to get me the best.”  
“That was very kind,” Paul said with a smile, and strode away. Bryce was thrown. It wasn’t about his father being kind; it was about his father wanting his son to be better than the others. Surely Paul would’ve known that? But Bryce didn’t have much time to think about that, as the last boy came into the room.  
He had sharp eyes, close cropped black hair and a quick way about him, something Bryce immediately recognized as a quality the other boys at his fathers Quidditch club had had.  
He sought him out. “Talbot. Bryce Talbot,” he said, offering a hand and switching back to the social ideals he felt comfortable with.  
“Oh hey,” the boy said, shaking Bryce’s hand. “Wyatt Cadogan.”  
Bryce recognized the surname as one of the several elite, but couldn’t remember who his father might be.  
“Where are you from?” Bryce asked as politely as he could.  
“I’m actually from Chesire,” he said. Bryce’s smile fell.  
“You're…?”  
“Yep, my parents were shocked to find out I was a wizard!” he laughed. Bryce sighed inwardly. Muggle elite. Of course.  
“Woah, your eyes are something else.”  
Bryce came to just in time to remember not to stare at people. Not because it was rude, but because of his shame.  
“They’re so cool! They’re all pink and purple. Are those sparkles moving?”  
“They’re not cool. I was hexed by my older sister as a child."  
“Oh, geez I'm sorry. I didn’t realize,” Wyatt said genuinely. “If it makes you feel better though, I think they’re really cool.” He shrugged and walked over to his trunk.  
Aggravated at himself for losing his control so easily, Bryce dug until he found his pajamas, changed and pulled the drapes closed around his bed. He laid in darkness, listening to the others chat amiably. He didn’t fit in here, and he finally let himself feel the ache and pain of it. His lower lip quivered for a moment, but he refused to cry. His father had smacked him enough to rid him of the awful habit. He wouldn’t relapse here of all places. He would keep his head high and power through. That was the Talbot way.


	4. Valerie

Valerie bounded up the stairs after the Ravenclaw prefect. The other first years lagged behind, unused to the climb, but Valerie had been athletic all her life. A few dozen staircases weren’t about to slow her down. Soon, they were all gathered around a blue door with a bronze eagle knocker on it.  
“You knock, and the eagle asks you a question. If you get it right, it lets you in. If you get it wrong, you have to wait until someone gets it right to get in. Sometimes you’ll find twenty Ravenclaws all searching for an answer before they get it right. This way, we learn. But if you’re in a hurry better make sure you’ve got everything.” the prefect explained. He knocked on the door, and the beak of the eagle opened.  
“Who developed the twelve uses of dragons blood?” it asked.  
A boy threw his hand in the air.  
“Answer.” The prefect told him.  
“Albus Dumbledore.” He told the eagle.  
“Correct.” The knocker said, and the door swung open.   
The first years all filed in, and were stunned by the room. Some brushed their fingers along the spines of books, which lined all the walls. A statue of Rowena Ravenclaw was among the stacks, wearing the famous diadem. A large fire roared from one wall. But while the students were all examining the book titles, Valerie only had eyes for the ceiling. It was painted the deep blue of the night sky and stars twinkled down from it. She could’ve sworn they were moving. The blue and bronze décor only made the painting more beautiful, making the whole place feel surreal.  
“Ah, stargazer.” The prefect said. Valerie started, looking around. All the other first years were gone.  
“No worries, your dorm is up the stairs to the right.” He said with a smile. “Welcome to Ravenclaw.”  
Valerie marched off, climbing the spiral staircase to her room. Just before the door, there was a window looking out over Hogwarts grounds. Valerie could see most of the Forbidden Forest and out over the black lake. She smiled, feeling the sudden urge to jump. She could probably make the balcony jutting out from the next tower over, but the glass wasn’t going to open this high up.  
Valerie opened the door to the dorm instead. Inside, three girls looked up. Valerie tugged on one of her several bracelets in nervousness. She forced it down and grinned.  
“Hi.” She said. “I’m Valerie MacLachlan. Nice to meet ya.” She stuck her hand out to the group, and one of the girls shook her hand vigorously.  
“Hi, I’m Gemma Lorgnette.” She said, shoving her enormous glasses back up the bridge of her razor thin nose. The lenses made her eyes look four times their size, and her blonde hair pulled into two braided pigtails only made her look younger and more wide-eyed.  
“I’m Yvette Láska.” The other blonde said, holding out a dainty hand to shake. “Tell me, Valerie. What’s your astrological sign?”  
“Uh, Scorpio.” Valerie said. Yvette tutted and walked over to the bed with her trunk by it. She flipped through a book lying open on the covers.  
“Don’t mind her, she’s studying astrology at the moment. She’s an Aquarius, so she’s worried about you two getting along.” The last girl said. Her hair was cut to shoulder length, and bright pink.  
“I’m Tanya Belleforté.”   
“Nice to meet you.” Valerie said, pleased to see someone with similar fashion sense. She didn’t feel so awkward about her combat boots.  
“If you don’t mind me asking.” Tanya said. “How long is your forearm?” Tanya pulled a measuring tape from her sleeve and held it from Valerie’s elbow to wrist. She frowned at the results and walked to her bed to record it in a book.  
Valerie sighed and sat on the last bed. She pulled out her uncle’s going away present, an iPod and a pair of headphones. He didn’t know his sister was a witch who married a wizard. He just knew his favorite niece was going away to school and wanted to give her something special. She smiled as rock music blared over the ear buds. She would have to find out where she could get a broom to play on until she was allowed to join the Quidditch team.


	5. Cassandra

“All right first years, meet the Fat Lady.” The Gryffindor prefect said with a sweep of her arms. A large portrait of a woman in a puffy pink dress looked down on them.  
“Oh lovely!” the Fat Lady exclaimed. “Oh look at all you sweet little first years!”  
“The password changes every month. We post the new one on the message board in the common room. Make sure not to tell your friends in other houses or forget the password. There’ve been many a Gryffindor left outside all night because they forgot to check the board.” She smiled, and turned to the Fat Lady.  
“Flubberworm.” She said clearly.  
“Welcome!” she said, and swung forward. The Gryffindor common room was decorated with the trademark red and gold theme, but most of it was blocked from view by the rest of the entire house.  
“WELCOME FIRST YEARS!” they bellowed together. Hands reached through the hole and pulled them in. Cassandra recognized Mason, standing head and shoulders above everyone else.  
“Hey! Cassie!” he shouted, thrusting a giant mug of beer into her hands. She watched him pour beer after beer from a tap attached to a plaque hanging on the wall. He handed them out to all of the first years. A petite girl stood on a chair to slap his shoulder and admonish him.  
“Hi, sorry. Welcome to Gryffindor.” Another Gryffindor boy came along, collecting the beers Mason had given out. “No! Don’t drink that! You're eleven for Merlin’s sake!” he hurried along, taking her mug. That was fine with her; she was going to just find a place to put it down anyway.  
“Quiet! Quiet for a moment!” the prefect shouted over the noise. It dimmed for a moment, but didn’t become quiet.  
“Boys dorms on the left, girls on the right!” she shouted, pointing to a dual staircase at the end of the common room. “It says one on the door! Don’t worry you’ll find it easy enough!”  
Cassandra bolted for the staircase, along with several other terrified first years. She swept up the right staircase and found the door with a gold one painted on the it. She peaked inside and was relieved to find five four-poster beds with red and gold hangings. A large heater sat in the middle of the room with a bar around it, so you wouldn’t bump into it accidentally. Cassandra noticed it was magically locked. She spotted her trunk across the room and quickly went to it. She pulled out a book and changed into her pajamas. She was just settling into bed when the door opened.  
“Hi. Some welcoming party, huh?” the girl asked. She found her trunk and pulled out a game of exploding snap, then ran back downstairs. Then she was back.  
“Hey, you don’t want to come down? We’re all having a good time. We’d be happy if everyone was there.” She smiled and tucked a strand of her short black hair behind her ear.  
“Thank you, but no.” Cassandra said, with a real smile. “Its too loud. And getting late.”  
“Oh. Um, okay then.” The girl shrugged and left. Cassandra tried to read for the next hour, only to be distracted by small explosions and the roar of the crowd. Soon she gave up, pulled her pillow over her head and drifted off.  
/  
Cassandra rose with the sun, organized her schoolbag for the hundredth time, and wandered about until she found the dorm showers and bathroom. Clean, and refreshed, she returned to her dorm.  
She looked at the sleeping bodies and worried. Should she wake them? They could be late for their classes. Maybe they just didn’t have early classes like she did. She shrugged, neatly tied her red and gold tie around her neck, brushed her skirt down again and took a deep breath. First day of classes, and she was ready. She even had an hour and a half for breakfast.  
Cassandra marched down the stairs and across the common room, stepping over a few bodies to the portrait hole as she went. Some students hadn’t even made it to their beds last night. How distasteful.  
“Good morning!” she said cheerily to the Fat Lady as she stepped out.  
“Hmm?” she mumbled, leaning against her frame. “Oh, morning is it?”  
Cassandra frowned and made sure the portrait was shut before heading down the several moving staircases to the Great Hall.  
“Watch yourself!” someone shouted, and Cassandra ducked instinctively. A boy in sweats and a tank top flew over her head and landed gently at the base of the stairs.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, alarmed.  
He shrugged. “Parkour practice.” He pointed, and Cassandra looked to see several other boys and girls jumping and climbing the moving staircases. They swung and tumbled as if they were made of air. She watched in awe.  
“Morning, Firstyear!” a girl shouted as she launched over Cassandra, flying from one staircase and just managing to catch and climb up another while it was moving away.  
“Parkour.” Cassandra murmured. “It must be a muggle thing.” She turned back to the boy who had narrowly missed her, but he was already two staircases away. She decided she would do some research on her time off, but her stomach rumbled and she followed the smell of bacon to the Great Hall.  
Only one of the professors was awake and eating breakfast. It was the man with intense green eyes who had helped with the sorting.  
Cassandra took a seat at the Gryffindor table. There were a few Gryffindors there, all still in pajamas with mussed hair. They barely looked awake, just shoving food into their mouths methodically. One boy had been cutting the same piece of sausage for nearly five minutes.  
Cassandra pulled bacon, eggs, toast and an orange onto her plate, filling her goblet with milk. A balanced diet was best for optimal brain performance. She intended to get perfect marks for her first year.  
“Hey, Cassie, right?” Mason plunked his enormous weight down next to her.  
“Cassandra.” She corrected.  
“Right, right. Watchya got first kid?” he leaned over, looking at her schedule which she had lain out next to her plate to study.  
“Transfiguration.” She said, looking at the schedule with him.  
“Oh, with Professor Giaguaro. He’s really interesting. I think you’ll get along well with him.” Mason said good-naturedly, piling his plate with bacon and sausage. “The guy is a great instructor, and nice enough, but he’s got a bit of a cold streak.”  
Mason pointed with his fork to the professor’s table. “That’s him.” He said, mouth full of food.  
Cassandra studied Professor Giaguaro with interest.  
“Looks like you’ve got Neupravený for potions after.” Mason said. Cassandra looked back to him to find him studying her schedule. He pulled a face. “He’s freakin’ nuts but you’ll learn the most from his classes, just watch out for his experiments. He sometimes forgets them open around the class. One kid had to have an entire arm regrown.”  
Cassandra turned pale, and Mason laughed.  
“Sorry, kid. Couldn’t help it. No he’s fine but seriously watch out. He likes to experiment.”  
“Well, I have to go.” Cassandra said neatly, picking up her bag and standing. She reached out for her schedule. Mason folded it and handed it back.  
“Good luck, and if you need anything you ask anyone wearing the red and gold.” He said, tugging gently on her tie. “Gryffindors stick together.” He winked and went back to his food.  
Cassandra stood there for a moment, before saying thanks and walking away, following the map on the back of her schedule. Maybe Mason wasn’t so bad, just a bit rough around the edges.  
She frowned at her map. There was greasy fingerprint on it. Actually, there were several. At first, she was furious. He didn’t even wipe his hands before handling her things! But upon closer inspection, she noticed each fingerprint was over a class she had to go to today.  
She sighed. “At least he tried.” She murmured, caught between irritation and laughter.  
She made it to class right on time, and took a seat near the front. Red and gold dotted the class, along with blue and bronze. Professor Giaguaro swept in as the bell rang.  
“Welcome, first years, welcome.” He said in a deep and rumbling voice.


	6. Valerie

Valerie snuck into the back of the transfiguration class a few minutes late, watching the professor carefully to make sure his back was turned the whole time.  
She sat down and put her bag between her legs, trying desperately to make some sort of knot in her tie that resembled the others. A shadow fell over her and she froze.  
“Welcome, Miss MacLachlan,” Professor Giaguaro said softly. She looked up into his eyes and felt them search her soul. She couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t move.  
He reached down and swiftly did her tie, adjusting it carefully. “Next time, I would prefer you arrive on time,” he said, and swept back up to the front of the class.  
“As I was saying, this class will be very difficult and most students find it to be one of the hardest classes they take. However, if you are willing to put in your best effort I am willing to do everything in my power to help you succeed.”  
Valerie soon tuned out, letting the professor drone on about what they would be accomplishing this year, and before she knew it the bell rang. She started, then scooped up her bag and was halfway to the door before Giaguaro called after her.  
“Valerie. A word?” he said. Valerie hung back, walking slowly to the front of the room, scuffing her large boots against the ground as she went.  
Another girl, a petite Gryffindor, stood there as well, but she seemed more anxious than bummed.  
“Miss MacLachlan I would prefer you be on time for my classes, and at least try to pay attention during future lectures. While I don’t mind this time because it is the first day and the opening speech, I do not want it to become habit are we clear?”  
“Yessir,” Valerie mumbled, looking at her feet.  
“Thank you, dear. I look forward to our classes. I sense great skill in you. You will do well in this class.”  
Valerie looked up, surprised. She allowed herself a small smile, then nodded and turned to walk away.  
“Please, Professor I don’t think the Sorting Hat put me in the right house,” Valerie heard the Gryffindor girl say as she walked away. Valerie slowed, nearly stopping.  
“Impossible. The hat is never wrong,” Giaguaro said kindly. “You may feel a bit uneasy being sorted, but you will grow into a spectacular Gryffindor.”  
“Sir I must disagree-“  
“Miss Winters,” Giaguaro cut across her. “The hat is never wrong. If you feel very strongly, perhaps a meeting with the headmaster will be better suited?”  
“No, sir. Thank you for your time.”  
Valerie had just reached the door. She walked out and waited just outside the door until the Gryffindor girl came out.  
“Hey,” she said, extending her hand out her. “Valerie MachLachlan, nice to meet you.”  
The girl looked at her many bracelets first, then her eyes flicked to the heavy boots Valerie wore. Valerie smiled.  
“Cassandra,” she said. She tucked a piece of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear and daintily shook Valerie’s hand.  
“I heard you tell Giaguaro you weren’t sorted right,” Valerie cut straight to her point. “I think I’m in the wrong house too. The hat went bonkers right before shouting Ravenclaw. I know I’m in the wrong place.”  
Cassandra pressed her lips together, her brown eyes boring deep into Valerie’s green ones. Finally, she shrugged.  
“The hat is never wrong,” she said, and walked away. Valerie stared after her, exasperated. She huffed, and stomped away. She was going to be late for her next class.  
/  
The day closed with Herbology, and a tiny mole-like man looked over all of their work.  
“Lovely, just lovely. Excellent work for your first day,” he said cheerfully. Everyone was panting and streaked with dirt. Valerie pulled a twig from her long black hair. Not a single student had gone through the class of re-potting bouncing bulbs without being smacked in the face at least once.  
“Next class, we will be watching me handle venomous tentacula. Rest well, it will be interesting next time,” he winked and opened the door.  
“Professor Jay is insane,” one of the students murmured.  
“Just be happy you don’t have flying lessons with his wife. I heard Miss Ivy barely teaches! She just hands you a broom and pushes you off the Astronomy Tower.”  
Valerie snickered and returned to Ravenclaw tower to change her filthy robes.  
To her dismay, there were already four Ravenclaws outside the door.  
“Oh no,” she murmured. She walked up the group.  
“What’s it asking?” she looked around.  
“What was the first series of broomstick to be sold to the public?” one of the Ravenclaws asked. Valerie looked at him.  
“The Cleansweeps,” she said, surprised none of the other’s knew it.  
“Correct,” the bronze eagle said from the door, and it swung open. The Ravenclaw students looked at her in surprise.  
“What? You honestly never researched broomsticks?”  
“We never thought to,” one of them answered, and they all filed in. Valerie felt strange, something warm in her chest.  
A sense of pride, something she had never gotten from knowledge, only sports.  
Valerie changed, a newfound purpose inspiring her.  
At dinner in the Great Hall, sitting among the other Ravenclaws though, it began to dwindle. She knew one thing, and could barely keep up with what they were talking about.  
“Hey, Valerie,” Tanya sat down next to her, her hair changed from pink to blue. “I heard you got the question for the door today.”  
“Yeah, I’m just good with Quidditch and broomsticks I guess,” Valerie said, shrugging, but couldn’t help smiling.  
“Very cool,” Tanya said with an approving nod. “Also, would you mind me measuring the circumference of you wrist versus your head?”  
Valerie laughed and bent her head toward her roommate.


	7. Bryce

Bryce watched his roommates climb up the chute that lead out of the common room. He wrestled with the uncomfortable feeling of being enclosed in that space again. The slide down made him feel sick. The climb up looked difficult.  
"C'mon, Bryce," Ben's face popped into view at the top. "Do you need some help?"  
"No," he said shortly, throwing his emotions aside and starting up the shoot. He finally emerged, flustered and a bit out of breath. His roommates cheered.  
"Well, done!" Ben beamed. Wyatt clapped him on the back and Paul nodded.  
Bryce straightened his robes and scowled.  
"I didn't do anything extraordinary," he snarled. "I just climbed out of the damned common room."  
His roommates fell silent, the smiles wiped from their faces. Bryce felt a twinge of guilt, but Ben was the first to smile again.  
"Well, I'm just happy we get to have breakfast together." Wyatt chuckled and Paul allowed a small smile as well.  
"Let's go," Paul said, turning and walking away. Bryce and the others followed.  
/  
Bryce sat at the table with dozens of other Hufflepuffs, all chatting and trading schedules and loading their plates with the bounty of food laid out on the table. He watched them with a weird feeling rising from his stomach and getting caught in the back of his throat. It took him almost all of breakfast to figure it out, but he finally pegged it as the same way he had felt at the country club with his father. Inferiority. The thought infuriated him. He was better than everyone at this table. He had cleaner blood, lived in a better neighborhood, his parents had better jobs and higher social status.  
So why wasn't anyone talking to him?  
Bryce looked around at the faces surrounding him, all talking amiably and making friends. Ben sat on his left. He looked over at his roommates schedule, sitting on the table.  
"Hey," he said. "We've got potions together."  
Ben looked up at Bryce and smiled. "Really? Oh I'm so happy. I was really worried I would be totally alone!"  
Bryce smiled back, feeling better.  
"I've got Arithmancy with you later, it looks like," Wyatt said, leaning over and looking at the schedule in Bryce's hand. Bryce ginned and leaned over to compare schedules.  
The sick feeling went away. Bryce found himself enjoying the easy company of his fellow Hufflepuffs. All he needed to do was be nice.  
A dark thought tugged at the back of his mind for attention, but he brushed it away. He refused to ruin what might be his first friendship at Hogwarts.  
/  
Bryce sat in the middle row of the cold stone room. Cauldrons squatted on the desks in front of each student. The room was split between silver and green ties and yellow and black. Ben sat next to him, silent and unsmiling. It almost unnerved him. Bryce decided he didn't quite like seeing the boy so serious.  
There was a bang at the back of the room and everyone jumped and turned. A wizened old man hurried to the front of the class. Wild white hair stood up off his head, only partially held down by the enormous goggles strapped to his face. His beard reached his chest...mostly. Bits and pieces looked like they had been burned away. Bryce could've sworn the beard was still smoking as the professor strode past him.  
"Welcome to Potions class!" the professor said in a wheezing voice. "I'm Professor Neuprevany. I'll be teaching you how to brew the most exciting concoctions this semester!"  
Bryce did his best to pay attention, dozing off here and there but maintaining a fair page of notes. Ben had yet to write a single thing down. When Neuprevany finally dismissed them, Bryce had to nudge the boy. Ben jumped and stared up at Bryce with glassy eyes.  
"Class is over. What's wrong with you?" he asked as Ben scrambled to put his things away.  
"I'm sorry. I just...this place. It's so creepy. And scary. And Neuprevany..." Ben trailed off, looking at the professor at the front of the room. "He's terrifying."  
Bryce looked at him incredulously. "It's just a classroom. Suck it up."  
Ben looked up at Bryce, clearly hurt. "Sorry," he whispered and ducked his head as the tears began to fall. Ben all but ran from the room. Bryce didn't move, frustrated with himself. Ben hadn't done anything wrong. Bryce certainly didn't want to make him cry.  
The dark thought came up again, this time coming forward a bit more. Bryce shook it off and left the classroom, continuing on with his day.  
/  
He walked into his last class of the day: Arithmancy. He quickly scanned the room of Hufflepuffs as well as Ravenclaws. Wyatt sat in the second row with a seat open next to him.  
Bryce sat down. "Hey. How was your first day?"  
Wyatt turned to look at him and Bryce froze. He hadn't seen such an icy look on any of the Hufflepuff's faces. With the way Wyatt was looking at him, he would've fit in flawlessly with the other boys at the country club.  
"My first day was better than Ben's," Wyatt said, so softly only Bryce could hear. "How could you be so cruel to him?" he demanded.  
The dark though sprang to life at the word cruel. Bryce wondered if cruelty was all he was good at. He needed to be nice to win their friendship, not important. But could he really be kind? Was he really capable of an entire new way of acting around people?  
"I- I didn't mean..." Bryce said, at a loss for words. He did feel bad that he made Ben upset. He just wasn't entirely sure why Ben had been so upset.  
"Ben didn't like the class. I didn't do anything to him," Bryce said, finally kicking into defense.  
"You told him to suck it up. You didn't even see if he was okay." Wyatt said, completely level. "He doesn't like the dungeons. Its like a basement to him. They make him uncomfortable. But you wouldn't know that, would you?"  
Bryce's mouth dropped open. Nobody, save his father, had ever spoken to him like that.  
"I know you don't care for us." Wyatt said. "But we will still care about you. You're one of us. No matter how mean you are to us, we will not leave you behind."  
Wyatt turned to the front of the class as an aging man waltzed in, his arms full of papers.  
Bryce sat in shock, completely ignoring his class. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that, pointing out his flaws, and in the same breath told him they cared about him so much, after spending only a day with him, that even if he was cruel they would look after him.  
The class ended and Bryce did't move, allowing Wyatt to walk past him.  
"See you at dinner," he said, Bryce looked up at Wyatt in surprise. The dark boy had paused, waiting for a response.  
"Oh, yeah. I'll see you."  
Wyatt nodded and walked away. Bryce gathered his things and strode from the room.  
Bryce stopped in the hallway, looking at the mess of moving staircases, before deciding it was too early to return to his room. He wandered about, exploring some of the castle and even peaking outside. It was a beautiful day, and there were about a dozen older students doing something on the lawn. Two were facing each other, wands out. Others were cheering.  
Bryce's curiosity got the best of him and he walked over, just as one of the students fired a spell, knocking the other off his feet. Bryce jumped in horror and surprise as the rest of the students cheered.  
The boy who had shot the spell bowed and held his hands in the air, thriving off the attention. Without his robe on, it was easy to see the red and gold tie around his neck. The boy on the ground got back up, and Bryce was interested to see him wearing Hufflepuff colors.  
"Look out!" someone shouted. The Gryffindor boy turned around, just in time to catch a jinx. His arms snapped to his sides and his legs locked together. He rocked on his feet for a moment, before falling back and crashing to the ground.  
"Williams wins the match!" a girl said, and Bryce was surprised to see it was the prefect who had brought him to the Hufflepuff common room. He waved at her and she grinned and bounded over.  
"Hey! You're Bryce, right?" she said.  
"Yeah. What was all that about?" Bryce asked, gesturing to the winner and another student un-jinxing the Gryffindor boy.  
"Oh, this is the dueling club. I'm the president," she said with a grin, flashing him a badge pinned to her blouse.  
"Can I join?" the words were out of Bryce's mouth before he could stop himself. The prefect raised her eyebrows and laughed.  
"Sure you can! But you have to ask Professor Ivy for permission. She's Slytherin's head of house, but she runs the dueling club. And you won't be allowed to duel someone until next year. You'll be learning the basics and practicing on a punching bag."  
"That's okay. This looks...interesting," Bryce said with a smile. "Where is Professor Ivy?"  
/  
Bryce found himself, completely winded, near the top of the Astronomy tower. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, and he looked at the door in front of him wearily. He hesitantly raised his hand, then took a deep breath and knocked.  
"Come in," a muffled voice called.  
Bryce opened the door and peered inside. A woman sat at a plain desk across the room. The room was decorated with knick-knacks from around the world, all of them with a tiny label stating where they were from.  
The woman looked up, sharp yellow eyes boring into Bryce's.  
"Professor Ivy?" he asked, entering the room and standing up straight. All of his father's teachings kicking in at once.  
"Yes," she said with a smile.  
"I'm Bryce Talbot. I was told to see you to join the dueling club,"  
"Oh, yes, Katie told me you would be coming," Ivy stood, and Bryce looked up in surprise. She was nearly as tall as his father.  
"Come, lets see what you've got."  
"What?" Bryce said, alarmed.  
"Draw your wand," she said, drawing her own. Bryce nervously drew his, every muscle in his body wound tight. He'd never been in any sort of duel, or even a fight for that matter. Ivy walked up to him and, much to his surprise, touched her wand to his.  
There was a loud bang and a flash of light. Ivy took a step back and Bryce jumped, looking at his own wand. Sparks jumped from the tip of his wand and white curls of vapor trailed up into the air.  
"Oh yes, Bryce. I do believe you will be a fine addition to our dueling club." Ivy said with a grin.  
/  
Bryce hurried to the Great Hall, a little late for dinner, with a slip of paper clutched in his hand. All he needed was for his head of house to sign off, and he would be in the club.  
He sat down with a hard plunk between Wyatt and Ben.  
"Hey, where were you?" Wyatt asked.  
"Yeah, I was worried you wouldn't be coming," Ben said with a smile. Bryce didn't realize it, but when Ben smiled at him a wave of relief washed over him.  
"Just finishing up some stuff for school," he said, tucking his paper away. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't want to tell his roommates about the dueling club. Maybe a small part of him thought they would dislike him for it.  
He looked at Ben, who had returned to his dinner for the moment. He leaned over.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Ben looked at Bryce in surprise, for a moment.  
"It's okay," he said, a small smile sneaking onto his face. "You didn't know."  
"Didn't know what? I thought you just didn't like the class?" Bryce asked, confused.  
"I have five older brothers," Ben explained. "Whenever they were bored, they'd lock me in the basement for fun. I was always scared."  
Bryce stared at him. He felt bad, one older sister was terrible. He couldn't imagine five older brothers.  
"My eyes are pink and sparkle because my sister used me for magic practice once." Bryce offered. "I hate hospitals because of it. I spent so much time there trying to get my eyes fixed."  
Ben stared at Bryce in awe. Bryce held himself still, refusing to look down like he usually did when someone looked at his eyes for too long.  
"Cool," Ben said, and returned to his food. Bryce smiled inwardly. Pride rushed through him. He had succeeded. He had officially made friends.


	8. Thomas

Thomas loved Hogwarts. He sat at breakfast along with everyone else, his new tie sitting around his neck, and looked around the Great Hall, unable to quell the excitement whirling around him. The Slytherins around him talked amongst one another, sharing schedules, but nobody asked Thomas for his. He had it sitting on the table, an open invitation for anyone who wanted to see.  
He happily munched away on his breakfast, content to listen to the others.  
He did jump though when someone sat down hard on the bench next to him.  
Thomas smiled at his roommate with the curious eyes. “Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t get your name last night.”  
The boy looked at him for a moment before muttering “Cygnus.”  
Thomas waited for a moment, completely unsure if that was his first or last name.  
The boy sighed. “Cygnus Black.”  
Thomas felt a prickle of fear run down his spine, but he refused to let it show.  
“I’m Thomas Ferrara,” he said “What classes do you have today?”  
“I didn’t come here to trade names,” Cygnus hissed. “Just don’t sit on your bed without turning down the covers.”  
With that cryptic message, Cygnus got up and left. Thomas watched him walk all the way across the hall and leave.  
Thomas was confused, but as he finished his breakfast and gathered his things to leave, he decided he would follow Cygnus’ advice. After all, the boy had gone out of his way to tell Thomas, it must be important.  
/  
Thomas was only twenty minutes into Charms before he found all eyes on him. His wand was out, keeping a feather afloat high above him.  
“Oh, splendid!” the petite professor claimed. She watched the feather and Thomas in equal parts.  
“That is a perfect hover charm. Well done, Mr. Ferrara.”  
At the end of class Thomas found himself surrounded by quite a few people, all asking his name, where he learned to cast like that, and one group of Gryffindors who invited him to have lunch with them later that afternoon. He heartily accepted, thrilled to find friends so easily.  
Thomas felt his day went by too fast, but all of it was fun. He met Bonnie, Spencer and Michael, all Gryffindors who invited him to lunch, and a girl named Yvette in Ravenclaw, and he found himself feeling truly at home with the gaggle of Hufflepuffs he had dinner with.  
A few people seemed reserved around him at first, glancing at the silver and green decorating his chest, but quickly warmed up to him once they got to talking.  
Thomas skipped down to the Slytherin common room; the warmth in his chest wouldn’t be chased away by his house. He could make friends anywhere he went, including the dungeons. He would be fine.  
Thomas tossed his heavy book bag to the floor when he finally got to his room. He felt his roommates’ eyes on him, uncomfortably watchful. Cygnus’ warning ran through his head again, and Thomas looked at his bed wearily. He stretched, shrugged out of his robe, tossed it across the top of his trunk, and casually as he could, fluffed his pillows, and turned down his blanket.  
On his sheets was a set of carefully arranged dung bombs. If he had sat anywhere near the middle of his bed, they would have all gone off. For a moment, anger and sadness boiled up in him, threatening tears. But he decided to force those emotions down. He smiled, and scooped them up.  
“Hey,” he laughed, “Did one of you misplace these? They certainly aren’t mine.”  
Leo and Owen glanced at one another before looking back to him, mildly impressed but still frustrated.  
“Oh, yeah.” Leo said, his mouth quirking up into a snarling half-smile. Thomas held his ground, afraid of the boy but forcing himself to walk forward with a smile.  
“Here you are,” he said, holding them out. “I wouldn’t want you to lose something of yours.”  
“Thanks.” Leo said, swiping them from Thomas’ hand. The taller boy turned away and tossed them into his trunk. Cygnus walked in just in time to see Thomas turn away, his bed and his pride unharmed.  
Owen watched Cygnus suspiciously.  
“What?” Cygnus snapped. Owen jumped and looked away.  
“Nothing.”  
Thomas watched Owen and Leo curiously. He almost couldn’t believe it. They were afraid of Cygnus.  
He casually wondered why as he climbed into bed, drawing his drapes closed. His firefly lit up immediately.  
It must be because of who Cygnus was. A member of the Black family, sleeping not five feet from him.  
Even Thomas had heard stories of the Battle of Hogwarts, outside of regular books of course. Even though the Black family was on both sides of the war, they'd ultimately died out over the years. The name Black was mostly synonymous with Death Eaters.  
Thomas smiled to himself. He had made friends with a Black. He couldn’t wait to write and tell his parents.


	9. Cassandra

Cassandra sat in her room, books opened all over her bed, but she was focusing on the one in her lap.  
Suddenly, the door crashed open. All four of her roommates piled in, laughing and chatting together. Cassandra pursed her lips, but snapped her book shut and began stacking them together, deciding the library would be better.  
“Oh, hey Cassie,” one of the girls said. It was the same girl who had asked her to play exploding snap. Cassandra thought for a moment before remembering her name was Miranda. “We were just about to go down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the tryouts for this year. Did you want to come?”  
Cassandra paused, looking at the other girls. She didn’t even know their names, and knew next to nothing about Quidditch.  
It would be an excellent learning opportunity to watch the players fly though. She’d yet to have her first flying class.  
“Okay, sure.” Cassandra agreed. Miranda lit up and the other girls cheered.  
“Lets go!” they shouted, piling out the door in an excited gaggle. Cassandra grabbed a notepad and pen and ran after them, unable to stop their infectious enthusiasm from making her grin.  
She followed them all the way out to the grounds, taking in the castle and the lake in all it’s glory. She could see the towers long before she was able to reach them.  
She climbed up higher and higher, growing a little dizzy before being let out into the Gryffindor’s stand.  
“Look, there’s the captain!” Miranda said, leaning forward and pointing to a speck on the field.  
“I can’t see anything,” one of the girls said.  
Cassandra pulled out her wand.  
“Amplio,” she said, waving her wand in a large circle. The air in front of her and her roommates shimmered and warped, and suddenly magnified the little figures on the field.  
A tall boy with blonde hair was barking orders on the field, his mouth moving but he was too far away for them to hear.  
Cassandra recognized Mason, clutching a broom that seemed too small in his hand. The captain nodded and strode away, mounting his broom and taking off. Cassandra watched in awe as everyone else did the same. Even Mason jumped onto his broom and zoomed away, weightless.  
The girls squealed in delight as Cassandra whipped out her notepad and pen, scribbling furiously.  
“Hey, what are you doing?” the petite blonde asked. Cassandra glanced at her.  
“Oh, I’m taking notes. I don’t know how to fly yet.”  
The girl grinned. “I do! I can teach you!”  
“Really?” Cassandra asked, looking from the pitch back to her roommate.  
“Sure,” the girl shrugged. “I’ve been flying since I can walk.”  
“That sounds excellent. I’d love to learn,” Cassandra said. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”  
“Natalie Wright, but everyone just calls me Tally,” Tally smiled and turned back to the pitch, where Cassandra’s magnification spell was still reflecting the Quidditch team as if they were right in front of them. Mason flew by with a small bat in his hand, swinging viciously at a small ball rocketing around the stadium. Cassandra jumped when it sped toward the ground, burrowing under the dirt. It took some time for it to work itself free.  
Cassandra kept taking notes, writing in what she would like to ask Mason and Tally later. She grinned. She didn’t think she would learn anything from her roommates.  
/  
Cassandra plunked herself down next to Mason the next morning in the Great Hall. She pulled out her notes and he raised an eyebrow at her over his orange juice.  
“What’s all this?” he asked, setting the glass down.  
“I attended Quidditch tryouts yesterday and I had a few questions,” Cassandra said seriously. “I haven’t attempted to fly yet, but tomorrow is my first class and I want to get a head start.”  
Mason threw his head back and laughed so heartily a few Gryffindors looked around in surprise. Cassandra felt an embarrassed flush creep up her neck to her cheeks.  
“If you don’t want to help, you could have just said no,” she said, hurriedly scooping her notes up and stuffing them in her bag.  
“No! No,” Mason said, reaching out a hand and catching her wrist. “With Quidditch, you need to do, not learn.”  
Cassandra tugged and Mason let go of her. “I don’t follow.”  
“Are you free this afternoon?” he asked.  
“Yes?” Cassandra said wearily.  
“Come down to the pitch. I’ll answer every question you have,” Mason promised.  
Cassandra paused, watching the older Gryffindor. There didn’t seem to be any mischief in his offer.  
“Okay. I will,” she agreed.  
/  
Cassandra rushed from her last class of the day to the Quidditch pitch, hoping Mason would still be waiting. Professor Binns had taken a bit longer with his lecture than usual, and it was unbearably dull trying to keep up.  
She rushed past a group of Gryffindors, all of them with brooms slung over their shoulders.  
“Oh, hey,” the tall blonde captain said. “You’re Cassie, right? Mason said a first year was asking about the team.”  
“Cassandra, yes. That’s me. Is he still on the pitch?”  
“Yeah, he is,” the captain stuck out a hand. “Finn Crowley, nice to meet you.”  
He looked her up and down as she shook his hand. “First years don’t usually join the team, but if Mason thinks you're good enough, we might make an exception.”  
“Oh, I’m not trying out for the team. I've never flown before.” Cassandra said. Finn chuckled.  
“Well, then. Good luck, Cassie,” he walked away, catching up with the rest of his team.  
“It’s Cassandra,” she mumbled, walking into the locker room.  
Cassandra entered the pitch, looking up at all of the house towers surrounding her. Mason was zooming around, sometimes taking sharp turns and spins, other times lazily gliding along the stands.  
He waved at her and shouted something, then took a sudden nosedive.  
Cassandra backed up, watching Mason grow closer and closer until he leapt from his broom and landed on his feet, running from the momentum and stopping right in front of her.  
“Are you ready to fly?”  
“I don’t have a broom,” Cassandra said. “I had hoped there’d be an extra.”  
“Sorry kid, but you’re learning the way I learned,” Mason said with a wry grin. He straddled his broom and beckoned to her.  
“C’mon, right in front.”  
Cassandra looked from the broom to Mason and back. “What?”  
“Hop on! I won’t drop ya.” Mason said.  
“No.” Cassandra turned around and marched away, heading towards the locker room.  
She squealed when all of a sudden a large hand grabbed her by the back of her robes and lifted her off her feet. Mason plopped her on the broom in front of him and took off, flying one-handed higher and higher. His other arm was wrapped around her; his hand had a fistful of her robes, keeping her from sliding off the broom.  
“Relax!” he shouted over the air whooshing past them. “Keep both hands on the broom, find your balance. Hook your feet behind my knees, it’ll help.”  
Cassandra followed his orders, hooking her feet in the crook of his knees and instantly finding it easier to balance. She held onto the broom in front of her with both hands, sliding them a little further forward for balance.  
“There ya go!” he shouted, letting her go. Cassandra screamed out of fear, unable to tell him not to let go.  
“Calm down, I’ve still got ya!” he lied. She was balanced and his reflexes were fast enough to keep her on the broom if she showed signs of falling. He slowed down, letting them drift around the goal posts.  
“How’s this for flying?” he asked, hovering along the Slytherin and Ravenclaw side of the stadium. “Any questions?”  
“Are you out of your bloody mind?!” Cassandra shouted, too afraid to turn and face him. Mason guffawed.  
“Some tend to think so!”  
Cassandra took a few steadying breaths before finally asking some of her real questions.  
“How do you steer?”  
Mason spent the next couple hours showing Cassandra how to maneuver the broom as the sun sank ever lower in the sky. When it finally began to dip below the horizon, Mason guided the broom to the ground.  
Cassandra stepped off first, her legs wobbly but her entire body buzzed with adrenaline.  
“That was amazing!” she said, grinning at Mason. “I had no idea flying could be so technical! The intricacies, its amazing!”  
“You’re ready to fly, kid,” Mason smiled. “Just be careful in Ivy’s class. I won’t be on the broom behind you.”  
“Oh, of course,” Cassandra stopped, suddenly a bit awkward. “Um, I know you’re in more advanced classes, but if I could help you with your studies in some way, to repay you…”  
Mason chuckled. “Hey, what did I tell you? Gryffindors stick together. We’re a team, and that’s what a team does, we help one another.”  
“Right,” Cassandra smiled. “So, when’s the first game?”  
“We have a match against Slytherin in four weeks. You’ll actually come?” Mason said, a little touched.  
“You’ll make a Quidditch fan of me yet,” Cassandra said.


	10. Thomas

Thomas sat alone at a table in Slytherin common room. The huge windows across from him looked out into the depths of the Black Lake. Dappled light filtered inform the water and seaweed danced gently along the bottom sill.   
Thomas adjusted his robed around his shoulders, fighting off the chill that way trying to work its way into his bones.  
The common room wasn’t so bad, but some days is was a bit too chilly for his taste. His pen scratching against parchment was the only sound in the room. The last Slytherin that left nearly half an hour ago, so when something tapped on the windowpane, Thomas jumped.  
He looked up and a jolt of fear and mingled with awe ran through him. He stared for a moment at the woman floating on the other side of the glass with huge, protruding eyes and a rubbery, down-turned mouth. Long, scaly tail flicked back and forth behind her.  
Thomas grinned and got up, walking over to the window. He waved. The mermaid waved back and pressed her webbed hand against the glass. Thomas copied her, placing his smaller hand over hers on the window.  
She smiled, showing off serrated teeth. Thomas watch with some confusion as she deliberately reached across her torso to her hip, pretending to pull something from a pocket she didn’t have.  
Thomas copied her anyway, reaching into his robe. What she wanted dawned on him when his hand closed around his wand. He drew it and the mermaid swam around excitedly, using one quick stroke from her powerful tail to return to the window.  
Thomas giggled and pointed his wand at the desk. He had only mastered a handful of spells, but he was prepared to try for the mermaid. He swished and flicked his wand, clearly saying ‘winguardium leviosa’. His paper floated off the desk, hovering about a foot above it. the mermaid watched hungrily, nodding excitedly. She tapped the glass again and Thomas let the paper drop. He dragged his wand in an arc over his head, trailing little sparks above him. The mermaid bobbed up and down, walking her hands up and down the glass in excitement. Thomas’ smiled faltered. He didn’t really have anything else to show her. He had only been in school a week after all.  
The mermaid cocked her head to the side, looking Thomas up and down. Thomas held up his hands, his free one opened towards her.  
“I’m sorry,” he said. She couldn’t possible hear him, but he felt he had to say something.  
Recognition flitted across the mermaid’s features, and she smiled and nodded. She waved, and Thomas waved back. He watched her swim away, marveling at how fluidly she moved through the water, fading into the depths of the lake.  
“What are you doing?” a boy’s voice demanded. Thomas whirled around in surprise to face Cygnus, who was watching him wearily.  
“Oh, there was a mermaid. You just missed her,” Thomas said, turning back to the window. “She wanted to watch me do magic.”  
“That sounds like a lie,” Cygnus said bluntly.  
Thomas collected his paper and tucked it into his bag. “It isn’t a lie. She was very interesting.”  
“Mermaids aren’t interesting. They’re just animals,” Cygnus said dismissively. “And it doesn't matter anyway, I just wanted to double check your bed. Leo and Owen have something planned, I’m just not in on it.”  
“They know you’re helping me?” Thomas asked innocently. He reeled back in shock when Cygnus charged at him, grabbing Thomas by the front of his robes.  
“I’m not helping you,” he snarled. “I’m keeping myself out of trouble because if you go down, all of us pay and I won’t be dragged down by a sniveling half-blood like you.”  
He shoved Thomas as he stormed away and Thomas stared after him in shock, his mouth hanging open and tears pricking his eyes. No one, not even the bullies in his elementary school, had ever been so cruel to him. Thomas was confused, and more than a little hurt, but he reached down and picked up his bag and drifted out of the common room, unsure of a destination. The only thing he knew was that he needed to get away from the dungeons.  
/   
Thomas found himself sitting on the floor in the corner of the library, hidden by the stacks of books. He clutched his bag to his chest, tears falling silently down his face. Hogwarts was an amazing place. He loved his classes, the people he met, the teachers, and the mermaid he had seen. He wanted to go to a wizarding school so fiercely, and now all he wanted was to go home. He couldn’t write his parents, they would ask him if he wanted to leave. He was worried he would say yes.  
Thomas took a shaky breath and wiped his face. He didn’t want to, but if he was going to stay at school, he’d have to push back.  
/  
Thomas worked hard, and in secret, over the course of the next couple weeks. He stayed in the library after class and arrived early to his classes to have the room to himself to practice. He was always the first to leave his room and the last to return. The hard work encouraged him. He felt better the more ground he gained. He made close friends in all of the other houses, finding he liked Hufflepuff common room the best. He was always welcome there for tea and cakes, even though those who hadn’t met him yet occasionally treated him with suspicion.  
Thomas wanted to make sure he was ready, and was met with a test just as the leaves on the trees around the school began to change.  
Leo cornered him in their room one afternoon. Thomas had had to return for a fresh set of robes after a particularly exhausting Herbology class.  
“Hey, half-blood,” Leo sneered, making Thomas jump. He turned to face the boy, still buttoning up his shirt.  
“Yes, Leo?” Thomas asked. His wand was in his back pocket. It wouldn’t be hard to reach it.  
“Where have you been going lately?” Leo asked. The question didn’t sound like Leo was concerned. “We’ve been missing you, mate. It seems like you’re not even here.”  
Leo poked Thomas in the chest when he said ‘here’, and anger flared up in him. Thomas casually put his hands in his back pockets, his right one closing around his wand.  
“I’ve been going to school,” Thomas shrugged. He chuckled lightly. “Isn't that why we’re all here?”  
Leo scowled, and Thomas’ anger quelled a bit, replaced with a twinge of fear at the feral look on Leo’s face.  
“I don’t like you, half-blood,” Leo snarled.  
“I know,” Thomas said, standing his ground. “Believe it or not, I’m not really a fan of you either.”  
Leo reached into his robe for his wand, but Thomas was quicker. He whipped his wand out and cast the first spell that came to mind.  
“Abigo!” Thomas shouted. Leo was thrown across the room, colliding heavily with Owen’s bedpost. He groaned and shook his head, unsteadily finding his way to his feet.  
“You…” he growled at Thomas, finally drawing his own wand. “You’re dead.”  
“Immobulus,” Thomas said, and Leo froze completely, only his eyes free to swivel around in his head in fear.  
Thomas held his concentration, slowly walking towards Leo, his wand still trained on him.  
“I know you hate me,” Thomas said quietly. “But I’m here, whether you like it or not. I’m not leaving, I’m not going to be afraid of you, and I’m not going to be your punching bag.” Thomas considered Leo for a moment, seeing fear in the boy’s eyes for the first time. “I also refuse to hate you. I won’t hurt you, either, because I’m better than that.”  
Thomas waited a moment, forcing his words to sink in, before letting Leo go. Leo dropped to all fours and looked up at Thomas, his face a confused jumble of anger, fear, and maybe something akin to respect.  
Leo opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He stood and left the room in a huff. Thomas went back to his trunk and pulled out a fresh set of robes and tie, his hands shaking and adrenaline rushing through him. He couldn’t help the shaky smile working across his face. He’d done it. He had successfully stood up to Leo, who was the most aggressive of his roommates. New confidence surged through him as he walked to his next class. Hogwarts was his home now, and he would do what he needed to stay.


	11. Valerie

Valerie nervously wrung the handle of her broom, waiting behind a bunch of Ravenclaws, all holding their own brooms. She fidgeted, constantly looking around the line of people and counting how many were left until she was up. Still, she jumped when the captain called out next and there was nobody in front of her left. She took a deep breath, mounted her broom and launched into the air.  
She felt her troubles strip away from her, left on the ground as she floated higher and higher, until she was level with the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.  
“Hi, I’m Valerie,” she introduced herself.  
“I’m Saaya Kaleka,” the captain said without looking up from her clipboard. “You’re here for keeper position?”  
“Yes.”  
“Lets see what you’ve got.”  
Valerie zoomed away, positioning herself a couple feet in front of the three golden hoops at one end of the pitch.  
Three chasers decked in blue and bronze swarmed at her, tossing the quaffle in a dizzying pattern among one another. Valerie watched and waited. She didn’t care how much it moved, she only had eyes for the ball.  
One of the players launched the ball towards the left hoop. Valerie sprung into action, stretching out and catching the ball on just the edges of her fingertips.  
The try out continued like this. The chasers maneuvering the quaffle among one another and launching when they thought Valerie would least expect it. It wasn’t until the last round that Valerie had trouble.  
The set up was the same. The Ravenclaws advanced, and Valerie watched the red ball in the darkening light. One chaser came forward, ball tucked under his arm, but suddenly it vanished.  
Valerie glanced around, alarmed, when one of the other chasers launched over the first boy’s head, without her broom. The quaffle was in her hand and she was falling fast toward the right hoop.  
Valerie couldn’t believe it. It was the exact same move the Egyptian National Quidditch Team had used to win the World Cup of 1999.  
She was so star-struck, for a moment she just watched, until she remembered she had to stop it.  
She pulled hard on her broom, rolling backward through the main hoop to fly down and to the right, launching through the right hoop and catching the quaffle as it left the chaser’s hands.  
The girl looked surprised as she dropped, plummeting towards the pitch. Valerie felt fear close over her chest, but only for a moment. She was relieved when the two beaters caught the girl before she fell too far and returned her broom.  
Saaya flew over to Valerie, a grin across her dark features.  
“Nice flying. I’ve only seen a few others fly like that,” Saaya looked back at her clipboard and frowned. “Hey, are you a first year?”  
“Uh, yeah,” Valerie said, watching the captain nervously. It wasn’t unheard of, but first years generally didn’t make the team.  
“I see,” Saaya marked something on the board. “The results will be posted on the house board a week from now. Keep an eye out.”  
She flew away and Valerie’s heart dropped. She tossed the quaffle back to one of the chasers and touched down on the pitch. She had no idea if she would make the team.  
/  
Valerie continued struggling through her classes, working diligently with Gemma as her tutor. The girl seemed to know everything they were learning already, although that may be because her nose was never out of a book, even in class.  
One morning, she felt something tickle her nose. Her first instinct was to slap it away. She rubbed her eyes, looking blearily up at her three roommates, all crowding around her bed.  
“What?” she asked thickly, mildly alarmed.  
“You’re the talk of the tower,” Yvette said with a rare smile.  
“Yeah, you’ve gotta check out the notice board,” Tanya said, barely containing her excitement.  
Valerie threw her sheets from her and bolted down the stairs, her roommates flying after her, giggling all the way.  
There were almost two dozen students studying the notice board. Valerie shoved her way past a bunch of upperclassmen to the front of the crowd, and saw her name scrawled magically in gold, next to the position of keeper.  
“I made it,” Valerie whispered, mostly to herself. She turned to her roommates. “I did it!” she shouted, throwing her arms around all three of them and pulling them into her strongest hug.  
The girls squealed, hugging her back and congratulating her.  
“How quaint,” someone drawled behind them. “They’ve found a charity case at the expense of the Quidditch cup.”  
Valerie whipped around to face an older Ravenclaw boy who was sneering at her and her roommates.  
“I earned that spot,” Valerie said, standing up as tall as she could. She thrust her chin forward.  
The boy scoffed. “We’ll see, _child_.”  
Valerie fumed, staring angrily after the boy as he waltzed out of the common room.  
“Don’t mind him, he’s just sulking,” Gemma said. Valerie turned around to find her friend examining the Quidditch results. “That’s Stellan Argall. He’s your second. If you can’t play, he does, which is why I suppose he’s sore.”  
Valerie smirked. “And he calls _me_ the child.”  
Valerie’s roommates laughed and they returned to their room together, getting dressed and gathering their supplies for the day.  
It wasn’t until Valerie let the common room door swing shut behind her that something felt off.  
She looked around, her roommates walking down the stairs without her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, but she couldn’t see anything amiss.  
“Hey, Valerie! Are you coming or what?” Tanya called. Valerie jumped and realized her friends were a whole flight of stairs below her.  
“Oh yeah, sorry!” she said, starting down the staircase.  
She only made it halfway before her stomach flipped and her heart leapt to her mouth. She looked down in horror as the staircase dissolved underneath her and she fell, plummeting towards the staircases below.  
She distantly heard Gemma shouting, and Valerie thought she was dying when her descent began to slow, until it finally stopped, and miraculously reversed.  
Valerie felt like she was going to faint, but adamantly clung to consciousness as she reached her friends.  
Gemma had her wand out, her face pink with exertion. Yvette and Tanya reached out to Valerie, who finally returned to her senses and flailed mid-air, reaching out and grabbing hold of the two girls. They pulled her onto the landing and Gemma finally released the spell. All four of them were shaking and terrified, but Valerie was the first to look around.  
“Why would an entire staircase vanish when I was the only one on it?” she asked out loud, but of course it was Gemma who answered.  
“This was a trap set for you,” she whispered. “But I have a hunch on who it is.”  
“Argall?” Valerie asked, looking for the dark-haired boy.  
“We’ll see,” was all Gemma would say. “For now, lets continue to breakfast. You’ll need your strength up now that you’re on the team. You can’t let your studies suffer, or they’ll take you off the team.”  
/  
Valerie trudged back up to Ravenclaw tower after a particularly rough Quidditch practice in the rain, which had officially turned cold with the changing of the leaves. She knew a pile of homework awaited her once she returned to her room, making her even more tired as she grudgingly climbed the many stairs to the bronze eagle knocker.  
She let the knocker fall and the beak promptly opened.  
“What are the three types of human transfiguration?” it asked.  
Valerie sighed and sagged on her feet, having no clue what the answer was. She hoped desperately she wouldn’t be left outside all night.  
“Stuck, _child_?” a familiar voice asked nastily. Valerie closed her eyes, counted to ten, then opened them and turned to face Stellan Argall.  
“I haven’t gotten this far in transfiguration yet, Stellan.”  
“Well, if you can’t answer a simple question, maybe you should refocus on your studies. You’ve got to be running ragged with all the Quidditch practice,” Stellan sneered.  
“Hardly. I never tire of working to better myself,” Valerie snapped, and it was mostly true. Plus, she refused to show Stellan just how tired she was. Stellan scowled and stood over Valerie menacingly.  
“Give it up. I’m better than you,” he growled.  
Valerie refused to move, glaring up at him “Never.”  
“Well, well. What’s this?” a deep, resonating voice asked. Stellan leapt away from Valerie. She whipped around and met with the luminous green eyes of Professor Giaguaro.  
“Good evening, professor,” she said politely. He nodded to her and fixed his soul-searching gaze to Stellan.  
“How kind of you to assist Miss. MacLachlan with a question she is unsure of,” Giaguaro said smoothly, not a hint of sincerity in his voice.  
“Y-yes, of course. Uh, Animagus, metamorphmagus, and werewolf,” Stellan told the door.  
“Well done,” the beak said, and the door swung forward. Stellan scrambled through the doorway, escaping from Giaguaro’s penetrating gaze as fast as he could.  
The professor flicked his gaze back to Valerie and she swallowed hard.  
“Saaya was very impressed with your skills on the Quidditch pitch,” he said. “It was up to me to sign off for you to join the team, but I believe you can do it. Keep up the good work, and be sure to finish your homework assignments. I’m very sure you will go far. You’ve got that spark in you.”  
“Thank you,” Valerie whispered, surprised but thrilled that Giaguaro saw so much potential in her. He nodded and strode away, gliding down the staircase silently.


	12. Bryce

“C’mon Bryce, concentrate!” the Gryffindor boy shouted at him. Bryce brought his wand up again, aiming for the dummy at the other end of the room. A stick was attached to its side.  
“Expelliarmus!” Bryce shouted, again. The stick twitched and wobbled, but remained at the dummy’s side. Bryce sighed and leaned forward on his knees.  
“I don’t get it, Elliot,” Bryce growled. “Why can’t I do this?”  
“Maybe you don’t have the right encouragement.” Elliot said, walked across the room and standing in front of the dummy. He drew his wand.  
“Disarm me.”  
“I can’t! I can’t even disarm an object, let alone a wizard,” Bryce said, standing up and tightening the grip on his wand anyway.  
“Yeah, I thought you’d say that,” Elliot said with a smirk. He flicked his wand and Bryce yelped in pain. Something invisible sliced into Bryce’s arm, going just deep enough to draw blood.  
“What the hell?” Bryce demanded, touching the cut for a moment, before another one opened up on the opposite shoulder.  
“Disarm me,” Elliot said dangerously “Or I’ll cut you to ribbons.”  
“You're crazy,” Bryce said, turning around to leave the room. The doors slammed shut and the lock clicked into place.  
Bryce’s heart began to race. He turned to face the older boy.  
“Let me out,” he said, hating the wobble in his voice.  
“No.”  
Bryce ground his teeth in anger.  
“Let me out,” he repeated, the edge his father’s voice often held creeping into his own.  
“There you go; now you’re mad,” Elliot smirked. “Now, what are you gonna do about it? Pout?” Elliot flicked his wand again and Bryce gasped as another cut opened up on his cheek.  
“Expelliarmus!” Bryce shouted. Elliot raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his wand stayed put.  
“Is that the best you’ve got, Talbot?” he sneered.  
Bryce scowled, ignoring the fourth cut that dug into his other arm. He was better than this. He could do it. He would wipe the smirk off that Gryffindor’s face.  
“Expelliarmus,” Bryce growled, and Elliot’s wand flew out of his hand, clattering to the floor several feet away.  
“Well done,” Elliot said genuinely. “I knew you could do it.”  
Bryce smirked, tucking his wand away.  
“Of course I could. Now would you unlock the doors? It’s a bit warm in here.”  
Elliot laughed as he collected his wand, and Bryce allowed himself a small amount of pride.  
/  
Bryce spent the rest of the night in the Dueling Club’s practice room, sending the dummy’s stupid stick flying over and over again.  
“Time to close up shop, mate,” Elliot said finally. Darkness had fallen over the room’s only window.  
“Right,” Bryce said. He was exhausted anyway. Combat magic took something out of him that other magic just didn’t seem to do. He grabbed his school bag and followed Elliot out into the corridor.  
“You’ll be all set to learn a jinx next week,” Elliot said, locking the doors behind him.  
“Excellent,” Bryce said. “See you then.”  
Elliot waved and they set off in different directions, Bryce making his way to the kitchens.  
Just before he turned the corridor, he heard loud voices, and instinct told him to remain still. He stopped just short of the corner and listened, taking his time separating the voices from one another.  
“C’mon kid, show us how to get in,” an unfamiliar male voice said. A barrel rumbled. Someone had to have bumped into it and made it wobble on the stone floor.  
“I can’t,” a boy said, and Bryce recognized his voice immediately: Ben. Anger flared up in Bryce’s chest. Ben was too soft; they would hurt him.  
Bryce drew his wand, knowing only one curse that could inflict real damage. He had endured it before, and knew its pain. His father had unintentionally taught it by example.  
“You brat,” another voice said. “You’re stalling. Nobody is going to save you.”  
Bryce listened to Ben’s rapid breathing. He put his wand away. These boys were older, but there was only two. He could handle this.  
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode around the corner.  
Two older boys, one Slytherin and one Ravenclaw, crowded Ben. Ben had a determination Bryce had never seen before set in his face. He wasn’t going to give up Hufflepuff house, no matter what.  
“Hello boys,” Bryce said coldly. “Is there something you wanted from my friend, here?”  
“Shove off, Hufflepuff,” the Ravenclaw spat. “Unless you’ll show us how to get in.”  
“What for? You don’t belong here,” Bryce said nonchalantly. The Slytherin boy looked Bryce up and down. Bryce had recognized him almost immediately as a boy from the Bacchus family. He was wizard elite, but on a lower tier than the Talbots. Bryce might be able to pull this off.  
“Hey, I know you,” he said finally.  
Bryce looked the boy in the eye, and the Slytherin raised his eyebrows.  
“Yep, you’re the Talbot boy alright. Look at those fucked up eyes,” Bacchus looked him up and down and shook his head. “Hufflepuff house, huh Talbot? What a shame. You’re father must be so disappointed.”  
Bryce smirked. His father had, of course, been disappointed when he found out but Bryce certainly wasn’t about to share that.  
“Well, they did let you into Slytherin, so I suppose I they’ve changed the type of wizard they look for, Bacchus.”  
The boy scoffed, but made no move to retaliate. The Ravenclaw looked from his friend, to Bryce and back.  
“Aren’t we…?” he muttered, but Bacchus shook his head.  
“This little punk isn’t worth it,” he said, stalking past Bryce. “Enjoy your hovel.”  
The Ravenclaw followed and Bryce refused to flinch when he got so close he nearly brushed against him.  
Bryce sighed with relief once they were gone.  
“How did you do that?” Ben asked, staring at Bryce, nonplussed.  
“I recognized his face. My father is associates with his family,” Bryce looked Ben over, but he looked okay, if a bit ruffled. “I got lucky, my father has more pull than his.”  
“That’s amazing. I had no idea family names were really so influential.”  
Bryce shrugged. “C’mon, lets get inside. I’m exhausted.”  
/  
The next morning, Bryce woke up to a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on his trunk at the end of his bed. The rest of his roommates had left already, so he sat down and took his time, unfolding the packaging to reveal half a dozen assorted pastries, and a note written with a sloppy hand.  
Frowning, he read the note, trying desperately to ignore the wonderful smell drifting up from the box.  
_Ben told us about what you did. Thank you._  
Bryce turned the note over. There was nothing else. He was frustrated about how vague the whole thing was, but he assumed he had nothing to fear from anyone in Hufflepuff house, especially if it seemed like they were thanking him. He reached into the box and pulled out a muffin that smelled like oranges.  
He munched on it while getting dressed; it was delicious. He had never seen the type on the breakfast table, so he had no idea where the Hufflepuffs had gotten it but he made a mental note to find out.  
He stepped out into the common room, wearing his casual clothes. It was the first Saturday morning he didn’t have any kind of obligations, school or otherwise, and he was looking forward to lounging around all day.  
Wyatt was sitting on one of the couches in the common room, a book on his lap. He looked up when Bryce left their room and waved him over.  
Bryce hesitated. Had Wyatt left the muffins? Doubtful. Bryce knew Ben hadn’t left the treat, but he had no idea who he had told.  
Bryce walked over and sat down opposite Wyatt anyway.  
“I heard all about what you did for Ben,” Wyatt said, closing his book and resting it on the low table between them. He poured another cup of tea and handed it to Bryce.  
“I just wanted to thank you,” he said as Bryce sipped, relishing in the warmth. “I also wanted to apologize. I was wrong about you.”  
Bryce sighed and set down his tea. He never thought he would have to say something that made him look bad, but then he also never thought he’d be in Hufflepuff.  
“No, you were right,” he said quietly. “I was always around people who were friends with me because of who my father was. They would never stand by me like you or Ben or Paul would.”  
Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “We grew up very different, then. But I’m glad you’ve got real friends now.”  
Bryce looked up and matched Wyatt’s smile.  
“Hey you guys,” Ben plunked down on the couch next to Wyatt. “What are you two talking about?”  
“Oh, nothing much,” Bryce said, turning to face Ben. “I just wanted to ask you to say thank you to your friends for the pastries. The orange muffin was very good.”  
“Muffins…?” Ben asked slowly, looking from Wyatt to Bryce in confusion.  
“Yeah, they were at the end of my bed. They said thank you for what I did yesterday,” Bryce said, now confused as well and a little worried.  
“My…?” Ben said, then chuckled. “Oh! They gave you pastries? That was nice of them, I didn’t realize they’d do that. I’ll be sure to tell them. They’ll be happy to hear you enjoyed them.”  
/  
The air around the castle grew chilly, but that only made Hufflepuff common room cozier. Tea was always on hand, ready to warm fingers and extra table space appeared for students to work on homework together.  
Bryce was sitting at one of the tabled wit Paul, who seemed unusually adept at the intricacies of potions when the sound of the barrels parting at the top of the chute rumbled down. Bryce didn’t bother turning around, working on the ingredient list in front of him, until someone screamed.  
Bryce leapt to his feet and whirled around, wand at the ready. He shook himself and tucked his wand away, dueling club already leaving lasting reactions. Instead, he hurried over to the person slumped on the floor along with everyone else.  
“What happened?” Paul asked gently, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. His lip was bleeding, his left eye was completely swollen shut and the edges of his robes were singed.  
“Couple of sixth-years,” the boy mumbled over his steadily swelling lip. “Thought it’d be funny to have a go at the first-years. Show us who’s boss, they said.”  
“Where?” Katie demanded. Her dark eyes flashed and Bryce could’ve sworn her curls got bigger, standing on edge like a cat’s fur.  
“Just outside the transfiguration corridor. A couple of kids are still there.”  
Katie darted up the chute, disappearing in a flash.  
Bryce suddenly had a bad feeling and turned to Paul. “What’s Wyatt’s last class today?”  
Paul frowned at him for a moment, before going a bit pale. “Transfiguration, and Ben has it with him.”  
Cold dread gripped Bryce, but he leapt to his feet anyway, clambering up the chute faster than he’d ever done before. He raced down the corridor, running up from the kitchens and climbing the stairs to the transfiguration wing, where a loud commotion was echoing.  
He drew his wand as he rounded the corner, quickly taking in how many older kids were there.  
He spotted one boy sporting red and gold, the sneering face of the Ravenclaw boy who had bullied Ben once before, a Slytherin girl he’d never seen before, and Baccus. Caught between the four was a group of terrified and very battered first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.  
“Expelliarmus!” he shouted, and the Ravenclaw boy’s wand flew from his hand. The other three turned to face Bryce, and he felt his confidence waver, but only for a moment.  
“Leave them alone,” he commanded, scowling at Bacchus. He knew rank wouldn’t work again on him, not after he had just attacked his friend outright.  
“Bombarda!” Bacchus shouted.  
“Protego!” Bryce yelped, getting his shield charm up just in time to take the brunt of the explosion that made the stones around his feet shudder with the impact.  
“Impedimenta!” Bryce said, trying to freeze Bacchus where he stood. The older boy dodged the spell, surprisingly nimble, and it caught the Slytherin girl instead. She gasped and stopped, frozen mid-step with only the tips of her shoes touching the ground. The first-years, all but forgotten, took their opportunity to flee, racing away and out of sight.  
“Tarantallegra!” the Gryffindor boy said, shooting another jinx at Bryce. He ran out of the way, dodging the spell very narrowly as it crashed into a suit of armor, whose feet began to twitch and jerk uncontrollably.  
The Ravenclaw boy had just recovered his wand and raised it, a nasty snarl on his face.  
“Crucio,” he growled. Fear froze Bryce where he stood. It was the curse his father had used before.  
Bryce dropped to the ground, screaming. Every nerve in his body was on fire, but he could have sworn it wasn’t as hot as the other times he’d been caught by the curse. It was over much faster as well.  
Bryce grit his teeth and stood, facing the Ravenclaw boy. He was furious now.  
“Pifalus,” Bryce snarled. The Ravenclaw began to scream, touching his mouth in horror. Sparks and embers fell from his lips, scorching his chin. The boy dropped his wand and fell to his knees as more hot coals poured from his throat.  
Bacchus looked at Bryce, a new fear in his eyes.  
The Gryffindor had no such fear and fired off another hex.  
“Locomotor mortis,” he said, but Bryce stepped out of the way and advanced.  
“Lepifors,” he said, intending on transfiguring the boy into a rabbit. Instead, he sprouted a tail, one ear, whiskers and buckteeth. The Gryffindor moaned in pain past his new teeth as his legs tried to bend themselves backwards to accommodate rabbit hindquarters.  
“You’re next,” Bryce snarled, and Bacchus held up his wand and free hand in surrender. Bryce didn’t care. He would make him pay.  
“Mister Talbot,” a shrill, hard voice cut across him. Bryce knew in that instant he was in more trouble than he had ever been before and turned to face Headmaster McGonagall, followed closely by Professor Giaguaro and the petite woman who taught charms, Professor Poirier.  
She flicked her wand at the Ravenclaw and he drew clean air, no longer forced to vomit fire. With another wave, the Slytherin girl dropped, free of the curse. She looked the Gryffindor over.  
“I’ll have to deal with you later,” she said. “Professor Giaguaro, if you would take Mister Taverna to the hospital wing, I would most appreciate it.”  
Giaguaro nodded and gripped the boy by the elbow, frog marching him away.  
“Poirier, would you look after the first years? Make sure they get medical attention if they need it.”  
Professor Poirier bobbed a short curtsey and bustled away.  
“The rest of you, with me,” McGonagall said, turning on her heel and marching away with a sharp swish of her long, emerald robes.  
The headmaster took each student into her office one at a time, starting with the Slytherin girl, then the Ravenclaw boy, then Bacchus, and finally, Bryce.  
Bacchus left, scowling, red-faced and puffy-eyed. It looked like he’d been crying.  
Bryce steeled himself when his name was called in McGonagall’s sharp voice.  
He walked inside and closed the door behind him, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.  
“Take a seat, Mister Talbot,” she said tiredly, writing something down with a short brown quill. He nearly questioned it. Nobody had used a quill in Hogwarts for nearly thirty years, but he supposed the headmaster could do whatever she wished.  
He sat and looked at her expectantly, waiting for his punishment. He certainly deserved it.  
Finally, McGonagall looked up. “Am I to understand you attacked four sixth-year students on your own?”  
“Yes, ma’am,” Bryce said. He refused to look at his lap, choosing instead to stare at the pointy, old-fashioned witch hat perched on the headmaster’s head.  
“And you endured the cruciatus curse?”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“And you did this because you thought your friends were among those the sixth-years were bullying?”  
“Uh, mostly.”  
“Mostly?”  
“At first, yes. When I got there I realized it didn’t matter who they were harassing, I wanted to stop it,” Bryce admitted. Saying it out loud made him feel odd.  
“I see,” McGonagall said, watching Bryce carefully. He finally met her eyes, just as sharp as everything else about her.  
“You’re on the dueling club, yes?”  
Bryce’s heart sank. He would be kicked off. “Yes, ma’am.”  
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”  
“No, ma’am.”  
“No? Very well,” McGonagall sighed. “You will have one month’s detention, served as your head of house sees fit. Hufflepuff house will be deducted fifty points. Oh, and your parents will receive a letter of your actions as well.”  
Bryce paused, almost afraid to ask the question.  
“That’s it?”  
“That’s it,” McGonagall said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Unless, of course, you were hoping to be banned from the dueling club?”  
“No, ma’am.” Bryce said, fighting down a smile himself. “Thank you, Headmaster.”  
McGonagall nodded. “Of course, Mister Talbot. Now, you are excused.”  
Bryce leapt up and left, not daring to believe his luck and not wishing to push it further.  
The door slammed behind him, and the portrait of an old wizard with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles chuckled lightly.  
“Reminds me of someone,” he said.  
McGonagall smiled, glancing at the corner of her desk where a man with untidy black hair, a woman with a winning smile and long red hair, two boys and a baby girl smiled at her from a picture frame.  
“I can’t imagine who, Albus.”


	13. Thomas

Thomas sat at a table in the library by himself, working out of a textbook for his charms class. He felt eyes on him, and glanced up, meeting the near feral gaze of his roommate Leo. Owen was standing just behind him and nudged Leo’s elbow, a wicked grin lighting up his face. Leo stared a moment longer, before shaking his head and continuing on his way out of the library. Owen followed, confused and suspicious, shooting glances over his shoulder at Thomas.  
Thomas jumped when Cygnus thumped into the seat across from him. He slapped his hands on the table, making Thomas flinch and several other students shoot him nasty looks.  
“What did you do?” Cygnus demanded.  
Thomas stared at him for a moment. “I don’t understand.”  
“Leo. He wanted to mess with you, but he’s too afraid to. What did you do?”  
Thomas shrugged, returning to his work. “I just showed him that he can’t bully anyone simply because he feels like it.”  
Cygnus sat back in his seat and chuckled. Thomas glanced up, surprised to see a genuine smile on the other boy’s face.  
“Just when I thought I had you pegged, Ferrara,” he said.  
Thomas allowed himself a small smile, watching Cygnus closely. He still wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with his roommate. At times, he seemed to care, and other times he didn’t.  
Cygnus opened his mouth, about to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He adjusted uncomfortably and looked at the floor for a moment before sighing.  
“So, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin game is this Saturday. I don’t know if you even watch Quidditch…” Cygnus trailed off, looking like he wished he had actually kept his mouth shut.  
“Oh I love Quidditch,” Thomas said with a small smile. “If you’re going it would be fun to go together, don’t you think?”  
Cygnus looked relieved. “I mean, well yeah. If you’ve got no one else to go with.”  
“I don’t. I’d be very grateful if you would join me,” Thomas said, suppressing a chuckle. Cygnus was so serious he couldn’t even ask someone to see a game with him.  
“All right, I will then,” Cygnus stood, looked around awkwardly and nodded. “See you then.”  
He strode away and Thomas chuckled to himself. Cygnus would be a very good friend, once he relaxed a bit.  
/  
Quite a few Slytherins turned out for the game, all decked in silver and green. The opposite stands were a bit patchy, leaving gaps without blue and bronze in the stands here and there.  
Thomas sat in the stands, the autumn chill resting on his nose and cheeks. Cygnus was next to him, scanning the players far below on the bottom.  
“We’ve got a new chaser this year, see her?” he said, leaning over and pointing to a petite girl with long, silvery-blonde hair. “She’s a second-year, but I overheard the captain saying she’s the fastest flyer they’ve seen in a long while.”  
Thomas watched her walk out onto the pitch with the rest of her team, smaller even than the seeker.  
“Did she try out for seeker? A small, fast flyer; it makes sense,” Thomas asked.  
“I heard she was too aggressive for seeker,” Cygnus wiggled his eyebrows at Thomas. “This is sure to be an exciting match.”  
“Hey, that’s the first year girl!” someone said from behind them. They pointed to a girl in Ravenclaw Quidditch robes, waiting near the back of her team with her broom slung over her shoulder and her hip cocked to the side.  
“She doesn't even look nervous,” Thomas whispered.  
“She should be,” Cygnus said. “The beaters we’ve got on our team are ruthless.”  
Suddenly, all of the players mounted their brooms. Professor Ivy, the flying coach and head of Slytherin house, stepped into the center of the players.  
“Begin!” she shouted, tossing the quaffle into the air.  
“And they’re off!” Thomas jumped at the loud, female voice echoing across the castle grounds. He looked down into the box below him, able to see the head of a Slytherin girl sitting next to professor Giaguaro. “This is second-year Marie Bacchus, commentating for the first time for the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.”  
The tiny Slytherin chaser snagged the ball first, rocketing to the opposite end of the pitch, where the Ravenclaw first-year was guarding the hoops.  
“She’s a keeper?!” Thomas shouted over the noise.  
“She must be spectacular, unless they wanted to have her killed!” Cygnus shouted back, leaping to his feet as the chaser closed the gap.  
“Argyros speeds down the pitch, leaving every other player in the dust!” Bacchus said. “She takes the shot!”  
Thomas groaned along with the sea of silver and green.  
“MacLachlan catches it! She’ll have a bruise from that, though!”  
Thomas watched anxiously as the Ravenclaw chasers wove through and about one another, evading the other Slytherin players.  
“Kaleka shoots!”  
Thomas nearly leapt to his feet, watching the quaffle get closer and closer to the hoop, but the large keeper caught it on the edges of his glove at the last second.  
“But Clacher catches it just in time!”  
Clacher tossed it back to Argyros, and she sped down the pitch, only to have the quaffle stolen from underneath her by a Ravenclaw chaser.  
“Ooh, Pryce snags the ball from Argyros, bringing it back to Ravenclaw’s favor! Pryce shoots!”  
The Slytherins cheered.  
“Clatcher manages to save it again!”  
This time, Argyros appeared behind the hoops, waiting for a moment, until Clatcher tossed the quaffle backwards to her. She caught it and sped off, flanked by a beater and a chaser.  
“Ooh, folks, this looks good,” Bacchus said. “Seems Slytherin is deploying their first strategy with their new player.”  
MacLachlan readied herself, studying her opponents. Then, a beater came up just out of her line of vision and smacked a bludger her way.  
“Watch out!” Kaleka screamed, and MacLachlan turned just in time to see the tiny, dangerous ball.  
Thomas could’ve sworn the ball had collided full-force with the Ravenclaw keeper’s face, but he watched in awe as she gracefully swung down, rolling just ahead of the bludger and coming up on the other side of her broom, completely unscathed. He was so caught up in her feat he jumped when the people around him cheered.  
“Argyros scores the first goal of the season!” Bacchus shouted. “Ten points to Slytherin.”  
Thomas watched as the Ravenclaw chaser nabbed the ball, and flew low, almost sneaking across the field.  
The keeper was focused on his new teammate, whooping and cheering for her and their first goal.  
“Clatcher, the quaffle!” one of the other Slytherin chaser’s shouted, just before and blue and bronze hand snuck up and pushed the red ball through the golden hoop.  
Slytherins booed and Ravenclaws cheered.  
“A sly play by Ravenclaw evens the score! Ten points to Ravenclaw.”  
Clatcher groaned and caught the quaffle, tossing it to his captain who looked ready to knock him off his broom. Instead, he flew away, tossing it to his teammate.  
“Captain Blake looks ready to tear off Clatcher’s head, but brings the quaffle back into play, tossing to Destin, who takes the quaffle all the way across the pitch.” Bacchus said to the crowd. Thomas watched the player streak by. “He’s avoided the other chasers, and a bludger! He shoots….he scores! Ten points for Slytherin!”  
Thomas leapt to his feet and cheered along with everyone else. Destin thrust his fist into the air, taking a victory lap around the stands.  
He was so close to Thomas, he reached out. Destin grinned and reached down, high-fiving him.  
Cygnus and Thomas cheered, but their giddy grins quickly turned to horror. A bludger came rocketing out of nowhere, slamming into the side of Destin’s head. He toppled off his broom, his chest catching the edge of the stands. The Slytherins lunged forward, grabbing him by his robes and pulling him into the stands before he fell to his probable death on the woodwork below. Professor Ivy blew her whistle, shooting a red banner into the air from the tip of her wand.  
“A low blow struck by Ravenclaw’s team.” Bacchus spat into the mic. She had a hard time keeping her voice neutral. “Beater Croft earns a penalty for poor sportsmanship.”  
The Slytherins booed as Professor Ivy flew over to the Ravenclaw player shooing him to the side.  
Argyros was passed the quaffle as Destin was collected from the stands and brought to the locker rooms below the stands.  
“Argyros darts forward for the penalty shot,” Bacchus said.  
The tiny Slytherin raced across the pitch, reaching full speed for just a moment with no other players in her way. The Ravenclaw keeper’s eyes went wide for a moment before Argyros unleashed the quaffle, ripping through the center golden hoop.  
MacLachlan looked in horror to her captain, who just shook her head. There was no stopping that one.  
“Ten points to Slytherin.”  
With the Slytherin team down a player, Ravenclaw scored easily two more times, making the scores even.  
“Look sharp, folks! It looks like the snitch has been spotted by the Slytherin seeker, Devka.”  
Thomas looked wildly around the pitch, looking for the tiny boy who was their seeker. Devka rushed by the Ravenclaw keeper, flitting about behind the hoops. Thomas caught a glint of gold for a moment, and head heart leapt to his mouth. He watched in anticipation but the seeker dipped behind the stands.  
“Where has he gone?” Bacchus said into her mic, craning her neck like everyone else.  
Devka emerged from behind the stands, shaking his head.  
“Aw, he’s lost it.” Bacchus said, turning her attention back to the field just in time to watch Kaleka trust the quaffle through a hoop. “And Ravenclaw scores again, taking the lead.”  
Thomas sat back in his seat. Without three chasers, Slytherin’s chances of winning were quickly dwindling.  
Slytherin tried scoring twice more, only to be thwarted by Ravenclaw chasers and their new keeper, MacLachlan.  
Nearly half an hour of struggling by both teams, Bacchus suddenly shouted excitedly into her mic.  
“Kotek’s spotted the snitch!”  
The petite Ravenclaw seeker swan dived straight down the middle of the pitch, completely ignoring everyone else. Devka saw it too, making his own attempt at catching it.  
“They’re neck and neck! It’s only a matter of seconds!” Bacchus screamed as the crowd went wild. Everyone cheering on their seeker.  
Suddenly, the silver and green blur pulled up on his broom, his fist held high above his head.  
A tiny, golden glint shimmered in his hand.  
“And Devka’s got it! That’s one hundred and fifty points to Slytherin, giving them the match!”  
/  
Thomas cheered with the rest of his house, everyone giddy and celebrating, the Quidditch team sitting together in the center of the festivities.  
House elves bobbed around knee level with trays held above their heads, the food on top quickly being devoured.  
Cygnus laughed and grabbed two butterbeers off a tray going by.  
“You ever had one of these, half-blood?” he asked with a wry grin. Thomas shook his head, a shy smile creeping up on him.  
Cygnus popped both bottles open and handed one to Thomas.  
“Cheers, mate!”  
Both took a swig, and Thomas reveled in the sweet, warm, buttery drink. His parents had had butterbeer at parties, but he’d always been ‘too young’. He grinned at the Black boy sitting across from him. He didn’t feel like he was too young or too small, or too anything anymore. He fit in.  
/  
Thomas slowly woke the next morning as something rustled above him. He rolled over and looked up just in time to blearily watch as someone’s hand closed over his firefly charm and ripped it from the headboard of his bed.  
“Hey—“ he started, but the same hand came down and punched him across the face, making spots dance in front of his eyes and his ears ring.  
He rolled out of bed and collapsed to the floor, tangled in his sheets, bed hangings, and still a bit dizzy.  
Leo and Owen were gone. Cygnus sprawled on his bad, fast asleep.  
“Cygnus!” Thomas called, shaking his head and trying to get his bearings.  
“Wha—?” Cygnus said, lifting himself slightly from his pillows. He looked down to see Thomas, caught, struggling feebly and nearing tears on the floor next to his bed.  
“Merlin’s beard, Ferrara what’s happened?” Cygnus got up, pulling the smaller boy up and helping him straighten out.  
“My charm. They’ve taken my charm.” Thomas said, fighting down tears but unable to keep his voice from breaking.  
“Who did?”  
“I don’t know, I couldn’t see,” Thomas took a deep breath. “I need to get it back. My parents gave me that as a going away present.”  
“All right, we’ll get it back,” Cygnus said seriously. “Get dressed, I’ll go after Leo, you go after Owen. We’ll figure it out. They can’t have done much with it.”  
Thomas nodded and the two quickly threw on their robes, grabbed their wands and ran up into the castle from the dungeons. Cygnus took to the Great Hall first, searching the house tables.  
Thomas ran up staircase after staircase; sorrow turning to anger. How dare they steal from him? How dare they take something that was his?  
Lost in thought, he collided with a girl on a landing, sending both of them sprawling.  
“I’m so sorry!” Thomas shouted immediately, losing all of his anger for the moment.  
“Ugh, c’mon. Watch where you're going next time.”  
Thomas looked up and saw it was the Ravenclaw keeper, MacLachlan.  
“Hey, I saw you playing yesterday,” Thomas said with a smile, handing her book back. “You're an excellent keeper.”  
“Oh, thank you.” The girl smiled and tugged on one of the many bracelets on her wrists. “I’m Valerie.”  
“Thomas.”  
“Say, why were you running? And why have you got your wand out?”  
“Looking for me, half-blood?” a snide voice said from behind him. Thomas whirled around to see Owen standing a few steps below him. The collar of his shirt glowed a soft yellow.  
"Owen," Thomas growled.  
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Valerie said, throwing down her bag and drawing her wand. “Who are you?”  
Owen glanced in confusion between Thomas and Valerie for a moment, before drawing his own wand.  
“Stay out of this, Ravenclaw. This is between me and my pathetic roommate.”  
Both Thomas and Owen raised their wands, but neither of them had time to fire off a spell before Valerie jumped off the landing, flying down the few steps and slugging Owen across the face with all the force she could muster.  
The two of them tumbled down the stairs to the next landing. Owen slumped to the floor, unconscious. Valerie rolled to her feet, battered but otherwise unharmed. She walked up to Owen and pulled his robes open, revealing the firefly clinging to the collar of his shirt.  
“That yours?” she asked, a bit out of breath.  
“Yeah…” Thomas said softly, still shocked. This girl was crazy…and kinda awesome.  
She snatched it from Owen’s collar and came back up the stairs.  
“Half-bloods gotta stick together, especially against creeps like him,” she sneered down at the boy still completely out cold at the bottom of the stairs.  
“See ya ‘round, Thomas,” she said, giving Thomas a half-salute, picking up her bag, and walking away.  
“Yeah…”


	14. Valerie

“You _punched_ someone?” Gemma demanded, looking at Valerie’s swollen knuckles.  
“Yeah, I thought he was calling me a half-blood in that snooty tone, turns out it was the kid I knocked over,” Valerie said, trying not to fidget while sitting on the edge of her bed. Gemma kept poking at her hand and it hurt.  
"The guy had stolen something from his own roommate. He deserved it.”  
Gemma rolled her eyes, the action dramatically enlarged by her glasses. She pulled out her wand.  
“Episkey,” she said sharply, and Valerie gasped at the crunching noise her hand made, but in a moment the swelling was gone and she had full mobility of all fingers. She grinned.  
“Thanks Gem,” she said, stretching her fingers and making a fist.  
“You should be more careful,” Gemma said, tucking her wand away, although not without a pleased blush spreading across her pale features. “I can’t fix everything. You might wind up in the hospital wing eventually.”  
“Maybe for a Quidditch accident,” Valerie shrugged, hopping off her bed and picking up her school bag. “But for getting into a fight? You’ll be able to fix any damage. Plus if I got in trouble I might get tossed off the team.”  
“Who’s to say the Slytherin boy won’t report you for hitting him?”  
“Nah, posh boy like that? He isn't gonna say a girl beat him.”  
“You beat someone?” Yvette said walking in, sounding mildly alarmed.  
“I only hit him once, and he deserved it,” Valerie said, slinging her bag across her shoulder. “But I’m off to the library. Kaleka has made mandatory study sessions for the team to ensure our grades stay up so we don’t lose anyone on the team.”  
“Oh, I’ll come,” Gemma said, quickly gathering her things. “Riannon said she’d pull some books from the restricted section for me.”  
“It’s so odd you call Madame Davies by her first name,” Valerie said, walking out of the dorm with Gemma.  
She shrugged. “I made fast friends with her. She liked how much I like to read.”  
/  
Valerie worked hard alongside her team, both on the pitch and off. She’d never done so well in school before, but with Kaleka requiring nothing less than an Acceptable and Gemma pushing for her to earn Exceeds Expectations, Valerie found she could excel in school, if she tried hard enough.  
Still, when Giaguaro called her name at the end of his class, her stomach clenched with nerves.  
“Valerie, how are you doing in your other classes?” Giaguaro asked once the last student had left the classroom. Valerie fought the urge to fidget in her seat.  
“Uhm, I’m doing alright. I’ve got A’s in Potions, History of Magic and Herbology, E’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration, as you know. I’ve got an Outstanding in Flying.  
Giaguaro nodded solemnly, thinking. “I see,” he said finally. “Well, Miss MacLachlan, I have a proposition for you.”  
Valerie raised her eyebrows, surprised. She had no idea what Giaguaro wanted from her.  
“If you receive an Outstanding in both Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts by the end of the year, Headmaster McGonagall has agreed to let me teach you how to become an animagus, if you so wish.”  
Valerie sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing what Giaguaro was telling her.  
“Me?” she said finally.  
“Well, you and two other first-year students,” Giaguaro nodded, sitting back in his chair. “You see we offer this program to a very select few students, both to keep the magic form alive and to make sure the knowledge is passed down. It takes a very special person to be able to transfigure themselves with magic.”  
“Are you an animagus?” the question was out before Valerie could stop herself. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her bracelets rattling with the force of it. Giaguaro smiled.  
He leapt from his chair, his body smoothing out and growing dark and lean. His eyes though, remained completely the same. Valerie was frozen, staring in shock at the black jaguar standing on Giaguaro’s desk with intense green eyes that made her soul stop short.  
The big cat seemed to chuckle, before shifting back into a human, legs swinging down in front of her. Giaguaro straightened the cuffs of his shirt, sitting on the edge of his desk and crossing his legs.  
“Does that seem like something you want to be able to do?”  
“Yes,” Valerie breathed, adrenaline pounding through her veins but she still couldn’t move.  
“Excellent. Now, you hold up your end of the bargain, and next year you will be able to begin.”  
“Cool,” Valerie whispered.  
“You are dismissed, Miss. MacLachlan,” Giaguaro said with a small smile.  
“Okay,” she said faintly, standing up slowly and walking to the door.  
The door slammed shut behind her, everything that just happened hit her at once. She gasped and took off running, although where she wasn’t quite sure. Finally, she found herself out of breath circling the Black Lake. Leaves crunched underfoot and her breath escaped from her mouth in tiny cloudbursts.  
Valerie stuffed her shaking hands in her pockets, her heart still pounding, though now she wasn’t sure if it was from running or staring down a jungle cat. She always wondered what it was about Giaguaro that made students freeze, and now she knew. The way he moved silently, the intense stare, the way all of his students froze when he looked at them.  
She shivered.  
For a moment, the thought of turning down the offer to be an animagus came into her head, but she quickly rejected it.  
“An animagus,” she whispered to the lake. She sat down, ignoring the chill creeping into her bones. She felt odd; elated and terrified at the same time. She pegged it as the same feeling she got before her first Quidditch match that was just a few short weeks ago.  
She fumbled with her bag for a moment before finally pulling out her IPod. She tried turning it on, but once again it was on the fritz. Hogwarts did that to electronics, and she sighed. She could’ve really used her music right now, to help her sort everything out. She made a mental note to show Gemma to see if she could fix it before staring back at the lake, surprised to feel panic slowly but surely mounting in her chest. Quidditch, classes, becoming an animagus, other students, she’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of school that when she finally sat down and did nothing, the weight of it all pressed on her, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe. She needed to move, she needed to do something, but she was frozen to the ground, unable to force herself to move, until she heard voices echoing across the lake.  
It snapped her from her trance and she leapt to her feet, quickly skirting the lake until she found the source of the voices hiding between a turret and the lake in a small patch of grass.  
The one with his back to her was pale, with tawny hair and the other had dark skin and a wicked grin. She recognized him as the boy she’d attacked a while ago for the Slytherin boy, Thomas. What had he called him? Owen?  
She narrowed her eyes, listening to their conversation.  
“I don’t even know her, Leo,” Owen said. “She just attacked me. I didn’t even know Ferrara had friends in the school, let alone a psycho.”  
“Why don’t you go to the headmaster about it?” the taller one, Leo said, sounding somewhat bored. He was fiddling with something in his hands that Valerie couldn’t see.  
“Yeah, great idea, mate. I’ll go up to the headmaster and tell her a girl beat me up like a filthy muggle, and she has dark hair and is in Ravenclaw. I’m sure that’ll help.”  
Leo shrugged and the Owen sighed.  
“Then why don’t we find her and pay her back?” Leo said after a few moments of silence.  
“Yeah? How’ll you do that?” Valerie asked suddenly and loudly, making both boys shout and scramble away from her in surprise and fear.  
She glared down at Owen, deciding she didn’t quite like him, even if she barely even knew Thomas.  
“See, we didn’t even have to look hard to find her,” Leo said, pocketing whatever he had had in his hands. “She came to us.”  
He and Owen drew their wands and Valerie matched them, smirking.  
“You really wanna try that?” she demanded, raising her wand. “I’ve beat you without magic before. You think you can take me armed?”  
Owen glanced nervously at Leo, second-guessing himself. Leo, however, didn’t seem to have the same reservations.  
Leo opened his mouth to cast, but Valerie beat him to it.  
“Eat slugs!” she shouted, and a bolt of light hit Leo square in the chest. He doubled over, dropped his wand, and vomited several slimy slugs onto the grass.  
Valerie gagged, remembering the time her older brother had hit her with that curse. It wasn’t fun and lasted nearly an hour.  
“Now, you leave Thomas alone,” Valerie said very seriously, pointing her wand at Owen. “Or I’ll know, and I’m always nearby.”  
Owen looked at his friend in horror and back to Valerie. He tucked his wand away and helped his friend to his feet, avoiding the slimy creatures tumbling from his friend’s mouth.  
“Stay away from us. We won’t touch him,” was all Owen would say, hurriedly marching past her.  
Valerie laughed at them as they went, feeling a bit more like herself. Nothing made her feel better than a bit of action.  
She wandered back up to the castle, taking her time and making it to the Great Hall just in time for dinner.  
/  
“Detention?” Kaleka demanded. Valerie hung her head, her cheeks burning in shame. Turns out, Professor Ivy had been able to see everything from her office window, which overlooked the lake. She’d been caught.  
“I’m sorry. I’ll only be missing one practice,” Valerie said quietly. Kaleka sighed heavily.  
“Fine, just don’t mess up again. I really stuck my neck out to get you on this team.”  
Kaleka turned on her heel and stormed away. Valerie blinked hard, tears threatened to spill over, but she adamantly refused, forcing them back and taking a deep breath.  
“Shame you can’t go to the practice, _child_ ,” a snide voice said from behind her. She ground her teeth in anger. _Stellan._  
“Once Kaleka sees me playing, you’ll never make it back to the pitch,” he sneered, and walked away.  
Valerie tried to be angry, but instead she was heartbroken. She was afraid he was right.  
/  
She arrived at Giaguaro’s office promptly at 7:30, knocking on his door.  
“Come in,” came the rumbling reply. She steadied herself. The professor that had had so much faith in her as to offer her a special course was now forced to serve her detention. Great.  
“Hello, Professor,” Valerie said quietly, peeking around the door. He sat at his desk, a lamp illuminating the room.  
“Come, sit,” Giaguaro pointed to a seat in front of his desk, and Valerie quickly walked over and sat down, unable to look him in the eye. He would burn right through to her soul, anyway.  
“Miss. MacLachlan, please describe your reasoning for attacking a Slytherin student with a slug charm earlier this week,” Giaguaro said seriously. The tone of his voice was nothing like she’d ever heard from him before. He did not raise his voice or need to. The calm, icy demeanor mixed with the fury behind his words was enough to immediately make Valerie start crying.  
“I’m sorry, sir,” she sniffed, letting the tears fall into her lap. “They were bullying their roommate before and I stopped it then but I heard them talking about me and they called me a psycho and they drew their wands but I didn’t want to get his with anything so I attacked first and that Leo boy deserved it he was so mean and there was two of them and only one of me and they were trying to figure out another way to get back at their roommate again.”  
Valerie gasped, unaware she had forgotten to take a breath until she finally finished her story.  
Giaguaro studied her with his eyebrows raised, a light smile on his face.  
“Valerie, you are allowed mistakes,” he said finally. Valerie looked up at him, trying her hardest to make her bottom lip stop quivering.  
“But, they’ll kick me off the team,” she said quietly.  
“No they won’t,” Giaguaro said dismissively, returning to his work. “Serve detention tonight, go to practice tomorrow.”  
"I can just...do that?" Valerie asked, hesitant. "Of course, Miss. MacLachlan. Do you think you are the first Quidditch player to ever have a detention?" Giaguaro asked with half of a smile. "Now, I need papers sorted and envelopes paired with letters. The sooner you finish the sooner you may leave. It was a rather impressive hex." Giaguaro chuckled lightly to himself, returning to grading the stack of papers in front of him. Valerie smiled, glowing with pride as she began sorting through the letters stacked on the far left of his desk.  
/  
Valerie was wringing the handle of her broom nervously as she walked out onto the Quidditch pitch. She looked to the chasers, playing around and tossing a quaffle around to one another. Kaleka was among them, laughing and doing tricks with the rest. Valerie's eyes drifted to the keeper's hoops, and was relieved to see it empty.  
"Hey!" Kaleka flew down, landing in front of Valerie. "We were just about to start. Are you ready?"  
"Yeah," Valerie said, thrilled to be playing again.  
/  
Once the sky had grown dark, Kaleka called the end of practice and Valerie walked to the locker rooms with the rest of the team, trading tips and observations with one of the beaters, a third-year, Chris Sanford, who was now the second youngest on the team.  
"Yeah, you've got some great control. If you keep that up, Kaleka might make you Captain before she leaves," he said, chuckling.  
"Yeah, right," Valerie said, laughing at the thought. Sanford looked at Valerie, somber for a moment. "Right, you weren't here last time," he said. "She kicked Stellan off the team for you."  
" _What?_ " Valerie said, shocked. Sanford nodded.  
"Yeah, Stellan was giving her some real problems, nearly knocked the seeker off his broom. He gave her some lip, and then told her she would be a smarter Ravenclaw for taking you off the team. So she told him to walk away and don't bother coming back."  
Valerie looked toward Kaleka, the tail of her long, dark braid disappearing into the girls locker room.  
"Cool," she whispered.


	15. Cassandra

Cassandra sat in the stands decked in red and gold, her coat and scarf barely keeping out the cold. Across from her was the silver and green stands, rapidly filling with students. She was sandwiched between Tally and Miranda, the only two of her roommates she spoke to regularly so far. She’d never been to a Quidditch match before, and was surprised and excited by all the fanfare.  
Cassandra could see Mason sticking out like a sore thumb among all the other players on the ground, waiting for the game to start. With his unusual size and mane of red curls, he was hard to miss.  
Professor Ivy mounted her broom and the players followed. She blew her whistle and tossed the quaffle into the air.  
“And they’re off!” Cassandra looked around wildly before spotting a box on the opposite side of the pitch where two people sat in front of a microphone.  
“The match between Slytherin and Gryffindor begins! This is Marie Bacchus, officially commentator of Quidditch matches this year.” Cassandra turned her attention back to the game. Mason circled just above the other players, his short bat dwarfed in his hand.  
“Argyros is the first to the quaffle, no surprise after last game. She’s nearly on top of Keen! She shoots!”  
The crowd roared their approval as the keeper snagged the quaffle from the air, tossing it to a chaser as he flew by.  
“Crowley takes it right back across the pitch. He ducks a well-aimed bludger from Blake and shoots!”  
The Slytherin side cheered as their keeper saved the goal as well.  
“Clatcher won’t let it past him.”  
The quaffle was tossed around, stolen from other players and brought dangerously close to either side of the pitch. Cassandra found herself on her feet with the rest of the Gryffindors, adding her voice to their roar.  
“Crowley gets his hands back on the quaffle!” Bacchus said as the chaser sped across the pitch. “He shoots!”  
The Gryffindors screamed in triumph.  
“And he scores! Ten points to Gryffindor for their first goal of the season.”  
The Slytherin keeper scowled, tossing the quaffle to the tiny, silvery-blonde chaser on his team. Cassandra watched her carefully. The girl circled around the back of the goals posts, passing off the quaffle to one of her teammates, then rocketed down the pitch, holding her arm bowed out, like she still had the quaffle.  
“Argyros takes the quaffle back down the pitch.” Bacchus said.  
“No,” Cassandra, said, her eyes flicking between Argyros and the boy with dozens of braids. He was the one who had the quaffle.  
“Wait, there seems to be some confusion on the field!” Bacchus said, finally catching on.  
“Destin has the quaffle!” Cassandra watched the Gryffindor keeper, Keen, look around in alarm, taking his focus off of Argyros just in time to see Destin hurl the red ball at the right hoop.  
“Destin shoots and scores!” Bacchus said, surprise clear in her voice. “Ten points for Slytherin.”  
The Gryffindors booed loudly as Destin flew past, high-fiving the third chaser on his team.  
There was a mighty _crack_ that rang out through the stadium, and Destin went wide-eyed for a moment before leaning as far back on his broom as he could. A bludger went whizzing by his head, just barely skinning his nose. Cassandra looked up to see Mason flying by, chuckling a bit to himself.  
“Destin _just_ dodges a bludger sent directly at him by Thorburn. Lucky for him, or that would’ve been the second bludger to the head in as many games. And Frost takes the quaffle.”  
A burly boy with sun-tanned skin made his way down the pitch, bobbing and weaving before finally tossing the quaffle over his shoulder to the Gryffindor player behind him.  
“Frost hands off the quaffle to Emerson! She’s changed course, heading straight up!”  
The crown leapt to their feet, watching the chaser shoot straight up into the sky. The confused Slytherin chasers circled below, watching. The entire stadium gasped when suddenly, Emerson rolled backwards, now plummeting towards the ground.  
“Has she lost control?” Bacchus demanded, every bit as concerned as the rest of the crowd.  
At the last second, Emerson adjusted the angle of her broom and whipped full-speed right through the center hoop, quaffle in hand. Clatcher flailed for a moment, torn between stopping her and keeping all of his limbs intact. Emerson whizzed past him, nearly taking off an arm.  
Clatcher turned to Blake, who returned his glance with something akin to shock. No way Clatcher could’ve caught Emerson without injury to himself.  
“Gryffindor scores, with the whole chaser going in as well,” Bacchus said, “Ten points to Gryffindor.”  
The Gryffindors cheered and the Slytherins sat back, frustrated.  
Emerson grinned and tossed the quaffle to Clatcher just before a bludger crashed aggressively into her outstretched arm.  
The whole stadium could her hear scream, and a Slytherin beater chuckled.  
“Martel sends a bludger Emerson’s way, breaking her arm.” Bacchus said as the stands roared. “Professor Ivy calls it a clean shot, she was holding the quaffle when he hit it!”  
Emerson flew over to Crowley, who looked at her arm. He asked her something, and she nodded, flying off to guard Keen.  
“Emerson remains in the game.”  
“But her arm’s broken!” Cassandra protested out loud.  
“That’s the way it goes, sometimes,” Tally said shrugging. “Quidditch players are tough. I suppose she might sit out of the game lasts too much longer, though.”  
“Crowley takes possession of the quaffle,” Bacchus said. Cassandra watched anxiously, nearly putting her nails in her mouth, but quickly slapping her hands back into her lap.  
Emerson hung back, watching the action and maneuvering her broom with one hand.  
“Crowley and Frost weave among the Slytherin chasers,” Bacchus said, “Frost takes the shot!”  
Clatcher caught it easily, tossing it back to Argyros.  
“Argyros takes it again, Moore following closely.”  
The third Slytherin chaser flew underneath Argyros. Cassandra raised her eyebrows. Even at this distance, she could see his wavy, shiny black hair, steely blue eyes and chiseled jaw. He was beautiful.  
“And Thorburn knocks another bludger Argyros’ way!” Bacchus shouted. Cassandra snapped out of her daze, tearing her gaze away from the beautiful boy.  
Argyros had dropped the quaffle only to clutch at her mouth. Blood poured from between her fingers and Frost caught the quaffle, flying back across the pitch and scoring another goal.  
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Bacchus said wearily.  
Suddenly, a small, red and gold blur whooshed past Cassandra, so close if she had reached out she could have grabbed it.  
“Jones has spotted the snitch!”  
Cassandra leapt to her feet along with everyone else, leaning over the edge to watch the Gryffindor seeker zoom along the ground, chasing after a light, flickering speck of gold.  
“Devka is hot on his tail!” Bacchus said, excitement clear in her voice.  
The two tiny blurs were shoulder to shoulder, battling one another, each with their arms outstretched.  
“A well-aimed bludger by Martel!” Bacchus said, making Cassandra look up in surprise. She had just about forgotten the rest of the players. However, she looked up just in time to see Mason distracted by the seekers as well. His attention was on the ground, and a bludger was aimed straight at him.  
“Mason!” Cassandra screamed, but he was much to far to hear her. The bludger smashed into his face dead-on, making him rear up and his head snap back.  
“Jones has caught the snitch!” Bacchus shouted. “One hundred and fifty points and the match to Gryffindor.”  
The Gryffindors leapt to their feet, screaming in success. Cassandra watched anxiously as Mason wobbled to the ground, followed by Emerson. Their team helped them into the locker rooms.  
/  
Cassandra’s mouth fell open when she entered the common room with the rest of her roommates. Most of the Quidditch team was there, short Mason and Emerson. Most of the house already had mugs of butterbeer or something stronger, all from the endless tap affixed to the wall.  
Mason and Emerson finally arrived, and once they walked through the portrait hole, Mason still with blood running down the front of his robes and Emerson favoring her right arm, the entire house exploded in cheers.  
Cassandra was swept up in the commotion, being bumped and jostled around until she found herself at the back of the common room, standing just in front of the stairs.  
She looked over her shoulder, caught between wanting to escape to her room and mingling with her house. She desperately wanted to have fun with everyone, but she just felt awkward. She chewed her lip, thinking. Someone else bumped into her, nearly knocking her over. He didn’t even say sorry as he moved on. Cassandra pressed her lips together, turning and marching stiffly up the stairs.  
She stopped at the landing, looking out over the sea of red and gold.  
Mason, of course, stood head and shoulders above the crowd. He looked up and waved heartily.  
She gave a tiny, sad wave before turning away and returning to her room.  
She may have made a few friends here and there, but she still didn’t quite belong.  
/  
Cassandra sat down in her last Defense Against the Dark Arts class before Christmas break.  
Professor Sendoa swept into the room, her presence commanding respect and attention, as always. She wore her heavy cloak as always, completely covering her right side. There was a rumor around the school that she’d been hit with some incurable hex, and her entire right side was too horrifying to let people see.  
Cassandra sincerely doubted that.  
“We have a quiz today.” Sendoa said, sweeping in her long, dark robes up to the front of the room. “Separate into pairs.”  
Cassandra looked around as people moved away from her. Separate into pairs was one of the worst phrases ever invented.  
She stood alone, the only one not to have a partner in the class.  
“Miss. Winters, you will work with me,” Sendoa said quietly.  
“We will be practicing shield charms against simple jinxes. Make enough space for other teams, and begin.”  
Sendoa swept back to the front of the room, Cassandra following quietly behind.  
“Have you been practicing your shield charms?” Sendoa asked kindly, allowing a rare smile.  
“Yes, ma’am,” Cassandra said, pulling her wand.  
“Excellent. Prepare yourself,” Sendoa said. She lightly flicked her wand, her left hand barely moving. A weak jinx still shot from the tip, but Cassandra had her wand up in plenty of time. The jinx evaporated on the spot.  
Sendoa raised her eyebrows. “Beautiful form. Might I suggest keeping your right elbow tucked in a bit more? See how it feels.”  
Cassandra followed her instructions.  
“Again.”  
Sendoa flicked her wand, a slightly stronger jinx launch forward. Cassandra felt her spell strengthen with the new adjustment.  
“Oh, yes. That is better,” Cassandra agreed. Sendoa nodded.  
“Again.”  
This time, she raised her arm, giving her jinx some real power.  
Cassandra felt a slim tremor of fear as she brought up her wand to deflect the spell again. The professor knew what she was doing. Cassandra trusted her.  
Still, the jinx made her shield charm quiver.  
“Again,” Sendoa commanded, “Hold onto your conviction. It was there a moment ago.”  
Cassandra grit her teeth and brought up her wand again. This time the jinx hit her shield so hard the whole class heard the two spells collide. A few students stopped what they were doing to watch.  
“Again, Winters,” Sendoa said, a fire lighting in her eyes. “You’ve got this skill, I believe in you.”  
Cassandra snapped her wand up as the professor flung a stronger jinx at her. Cassandra felt the strength of it peel around her, completely unharmed. Her heart was racing. She was safe against someone as powerful as Sendoa.  
“Keep it up,” Sendoa commanded, this time casting a real curse at Cassandra.  
Fear instantly clawed its way up Cassandra’s throat as the red bolt of light whipped towards her, but Sendoa had just said she could do it. She had the conviction.  
Cassandra brought her wand up, again and again, blocking and deflecting every curse Sendoa threw at her. The entire class had stopped to watch at this point, some students’ mouths hanging open in awe.  
“Last one,” Sendoa said, changing her stance. Cassandra watched her wearily. This was different. She could feel it. A moment before Sendoa cast anything, Cassandra realized what was different: Sendoa actually meant it this time.  
Well, then. So would Cassandra.  
Cassandra brought up her wand, conjuring a shield so strong, the force of it rippled through the air. Cassandra saw Sendoa’s mouth move, but she said the spell so quietly, nobody could hear her. No bolt of light came, but the class was shocked when Sendoa was knocked backwards a few paces, gritting her teeth in obvious pain. Everyone stopped and stared for a moment.  
Then, Sendoa threw her head back and laughed heartily.  
“Now _that_ , students, is how you properly conduct a shield charm. Fifty points to Gryffindor. You are all dismissed.”  
Cassandra hung back, slowly packing her bag and allowing the students to file out.  
“Professor?” she asked, walking back up to Sendoa as she slung her bag over her shoulder.  
“That last spell, what was different about it?”  
Sendoa looked carefully at Cassandra before answering.  
“That, Winters, was the cruciatus curse.”  
The hair on the back of Cassandra’s neck stood up on end.  
“ _What?_ ” she hissed.  
“It was a gamble, I admit, but I thought you could do it, and I was right,” Sendoa said seriously. “I’m sorry if you feel upset by this, but I think it important for you to know your own strength. I’m sure nothing can get past your shield spell.”  
“But—“ Cassandra said weakly. “That’s illegal.”  
Sendoa chuckled. “As an ex-auror, you do get a few perks,” she gestured towards her cloaked side. “Although, not everything is great.”  
Cassandra looked at the heavy cloak, torn between being polite and curiosity.  
“I’m sorry. Thank you for today’s lesson,” she said finally, turning on her heel and marching out. “Have a nice Christmas.”  
“You as well, Winters.”  
/  
Cassandra woke early on Christmas morning as she did every year, delighted to see the small bundle of presents at the foot of her bed. She had no idea how they had gotten there, but there was a gift from her parents, and one each from all six of her older sisters.  
She glanced around at all of the empty beds. All of her roommates and most of the school had gone home for Christmas break.  
She looked at the smallest package curiously, surprised at how neatly it was wrapped in the Daily Prophet front page. Nobody in her family would use newspaper as Christmas wrapping. It was about as long as her hand and a few inches tall.  
She picked it up, turning it over and over, looking for a tag, but there was none.  
Her need to know got the better of her and she ripped it open. A note fell from the bright blue box inside.  
She picked it up, reading it over quickly, then stopping in surprise.  
_Happy Christmas, first-year. Hope you like it. Mason_  
She stared at the box in her hands, wondering what on earth could possibly be in the box.  
Mason had gotten her something for Christmas, which meant it was either an actual gift, or something that could possibly explode. Knowing Mason, it was likely a little of both.  
Cassandra drew her wand and very, very slowly opened the box. To her delight, it did not explode. Instead, three sugar quills sat neatly in the box, carefully laid out and beautifully made.  
She smiled, gingerly picking one up out of the box. They were better made than those she’d had when she was a child. She felt odd, something between affection and nostalgia. How kind of him to think of her while Christmas shopping.  
She tucked the quill away and swung her feet out of bed, wiggling her feet into her slippers and padding down to the common room. Mason spent most nights passed out on one of the couches anyway.  
She had no idea why he had stayed behind, but she was willing to make this Christmas memorable.  
She peeked over the back of the couch facing the fire and sure enough, an interesting tangle of red curls, limbs, and blankets sprawled out over the couch and a little onto the floor.  
“Happy Christmas,” she said tentatively. Mason rolled over and smiled blearily up at her.  
“D’ja get m’ present?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.  
“I did. Thank you very much. I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything. Where did you find them?”  
“Don’t worry about it, I just thought, since you can’t go to Hogsmeade yet, that I’d get you something from the candy shop there.”  
“That was very kind,” Cassandra said, watching the older boy carefully. He looked very different with his hair all down. It tumbled and tangled down his shoulders, swept across his forehead in a red torrent and played down his back. It was fun to look at.  
“Care for some breakfast?”  
Mason laughed. “Always.”  
/  
Cassandra spent most of her break with Mason. Gryffindor house was nearly empty, and the few students in other houses seemed to keep to themselves. Mason taught Cassandra how to play exploding snap, and talked to her about Quidditch and what he was learning in his classes.  
She absorbed the new information gleefully, wishing desperately to learn what he was doing.  
She and Mason sat on the couch together on the last night of their break, her nose in a book and him finishing an essay.  
He looked up at her, back to his paper, then back up at her.  
“Why did you stay here for the break?”  
Cassandra looked up, placing her finger on her place in her book.  
“My family went on holiday this year, and I wouldn’t be back in time for school if I went with them.”  
“Oh.”  
Mason returned to his essay, but Cassandra studied him instead of returning to her book.  
“Why did you stay?” she asked finally.  
Mason paused in his scribbling, not looking up from his paper.  
“My parents asked me to.”  
“Why?”  
“I think they couldn’t afford to get Christmas presents for me and my younger brother this year. If I stayed here, they would only need to send me something small, and keep the Christmas spirit alive for my brother.”  
Cassandra stared at him, pressing her lips together. She simultaneously wished she hadn’t asked, wanted to comfort him, and was nearly pleased Mason would tell her this.  
“Uh, I’m –“  
“Please don’t say you're sorry,” Mason said, looking up finally. “I know everyone means well when they do, but its nothing to be sorry about. I can still go to school. My family still has a house and enough to eat with a bit of spare change to have Christmas and birthdays. It’s enough but…I've also stopped telling people for that reason.”  
“I’m just happy you shared with me, is all,” Cassandra said quietly, returning to her book. Mason smiled, and returned to his essay.


	16. Bryce

Bryce returned to Hufflepuff common room, his conversation with the Headmaster still tumbling around his head. Detention. That was it. And a note to his father, of course. That would be much worse, although, he had technically won. Bryce wondered if his father would be angry for brawling or proud for winning.   
He slid down the chute and stumbled a bit on his feet when his roommates and Katie rushed at him.  
He reeled back in alarm, suddenly sure they were about to tear him apart.  
“You absolute idiot!” Katie admonished. “As prefect I should make an example of you!”   
Bryce watched her, unable to react he was so terrified. He had no idea she had such fire.  
“But, as captain of the dueling club, I have to say: well done,” she said very quietly, flashing him a small smile and patting him on the shoulder. She shook her head, making her curls bounce and walked away.  
“You fought off four sixth-years, on your _own_?” Ben asked in awe.   
“For us?” Wyatt asked, raising an eyebrow. Bryce stared at the floor.  
“Well, yeah. Nobody gets to tangle with you lot,” he mumbled.  
Bryce was surprised and almost uncomfortable when Wyatt reached out and pulled him into a hug. He gingerly hugged him back, awkwardly patting his shoulder.  
Once Wyatt released him Ben bounced over and threw his arms around him too.  
“Thank you,” he murmured.  
Bryce smiled, fighting down the swelling feeling in his chest that was giddy and a bit sad. He wasn’t sure why but he felt like he was going to cry.  
Paul nodded in approval as Ben stepped away, and the four of them sat in the common room by the fire, trading stories and talking until everyone else had gone to bed.  
/  
Bryce knocked on the door of Professor Poirier, the head of Hufflepuff house.  
“Come in,” came the reply.  
Bryce took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and entered her office. It wasn’t anything like he expected. He had almost assumed her office would reflect the common room, cozy and comfortable with tea and cookies.  
Instead, tiny Professor Poirier looked up from her plain, black wood desk with only a few photographs and paperwork on it. A low, antique couch in excellent condition lined one wall, and two standard chairs sat in front of her desk.  
“Ah, yes. Mister Talbot. Please, do sit down,” she gestured towards the chairs and returned to her work.  
He sat, watching her pen scribble across the page for a few minutes before she set it down, laced her fingers together, and looked at him.  
“Mister Talbot, you do understand that here, at Hogwarts, fighting is not tolerated.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“Yet you decided to attack four students, all of whom were better versed in magic than yourself?” she said. Bryce fought down the sick gathering in the back of his throat. This was far worse than the Headmaster’s questioning.   
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, gritting his teeth.  
“Do you intend to make this a regular occurrence, attacking students?”  
“No, ma’am.”  
“Good. That said, Miss Roberts was quite impressed with your progress within the dueling club, and it clearly shows in an applied, practical fashion. She very nearly begged me to let you stay on.”  
Bryce’s hands balled into fists in his lap. He hadn’t considered his head of house could revoke his dueling club privilege. Of course she could. She had had to sign off on him joining in the first place.  
“I’ve decided to favor her request,” Poirier said, “On the condition you don’t get into any more funny business this year.”  
“Absolutely, Professor,” Bryce said, nearly sighing with relief.  
“Excellent,” she cracked a small smile for a moment before returning to her stern gaze. “As for your detention, you will be shelving books in the library every night for the next thirty days. I understand Christmas holiday is coming up, and no, you will not be required to stay. You may finish your detention when you return.”  
“Thank you, Professor.”  
“You will report to Madame Davies tomorrow night after dinner.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“Dismissed, Mister Talbot. Lets try to maintain a bit more decorum, shall we?”  
Bryce stood and nodded his head. “Yes, Professor.”  
/  
As Bryce served his detention and the rumors about how a Hufflepuff had lost his house so many points, he discovered there were two kinds of student: those who looked at him in awe, and those who watched him carefully, both angry and afraid.  
The house itself seemed to rally around him. They had a champion, and were proud to call him their own. A few of the Hufflepuffs rejected him, mortified at the rule breaking, but he had expected that.  
It wasn’t until he went home that the real ball dropped.  
He stepped out of the car his father had sent to Kings Cross station and stood for a moment, looking up at his home.  
The wrought iron gates were locked, as always, but he could see through them and up the long drive, their lawn perfectly manicured even this late into winter. His house sat on the back of the property, castle-like with its pale blond brick exterior, dozens of windows, and two spires on either side, thrusting angrily into the sky.  
He sighed and walked up to the gates, pressing his thumb to the lock.  
“Welcome home, Master Bryce,” the lock said pleasantly as the gates swung open for him. He trudged up the drive, watching the windows out of the corner of his eye.  
As he suspected, his mother was watching. The curtain of her window swished shut as he reached the front door.  
He entered as his mother made her way down the left side of the double staircase. She was tall and thin, with a pointed chin and a nose as sharp as her stilettos. Her dark hair was pinned neatly up and her icy blue eyes stared down at him.  
“Welcome home, Bryce,” she said warmly.   
“Hello, mother,” he kissed her cheek and she put her hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down.  
“How scruffy you look! Don’t they have a proper barber?”   
“I’m not sure,” Bryce said, touching a hand to his hair. He honestly hadn’t thought of it.  
“And it looks like you’ve gotten a bit pudgy ‘round the middle, haven’t you? Well, at least the food must be good.”  
Bryce did his best not to sigh.  
“Bryce, you’re home!” his sister had just walked out of the drawing room, a few of her friends in tow.   
“I’ve been waiting to hear all about your adventures in Hogwarts,” she said, a wicked smile lighting up her pointed face. She looked just like his mother, the same dark hair, only allowed to spill down her back, and the icy blue eyes that could freeze a man in his tracks.  
“Ah, yes. It seems you’ve had quite the eventful year.”  
Bryce felt his heart skip a beat, nearly having forgotten how stony his father’s voice could be. He turned to face his father, who looked very different from his mother and sister. The olive skin that Bryce had inherited, a chiseled jaw and black eyes that swallowed light whole, his persona was even more chilling that his mother’s.  
“Hello, sir,” Bryce said. His father sniffed and turned away.  
“We shall speak after dinner.”  
Bryce sighed inwardly. He was home, and this would be the longest vacation he had ever endured.  
/  
Bryce flinched upon reentering the Hufflepuff common room. It was a stark contrast to his home all over again. The fireplace seemed too hot, the couches were too soft, he could have been sitting in mashed potatoes.   
Bryce hesitated outside his dorm room, his hand hovering over the brass knob. Was he still the same Talbot? Going home had reminded him of who he used to be. He was the boy that clashed with everyone and hurt those who were nothing but nice to him. But back at Hogwarts, was he still that person who ran to where he thought his friends were in trouble?  
The door swung open and Ben reeled back, surprised.  
“Oh, sorry,” Bryce said dully.  
“Bryce! You’re back!” he said, launching forward and tackling him in a hug.  
Bryce hugged the boy back, mechanically at first, but slowly relaxing into it. Bryce looked over Ben’s shoulder to where Paul and Wyatt lounged in their room.  
Ben released him and pulled back.  
“How was your Christmas?” he asked, smiling, but there was something a bit different about his smile.  
“It was nice,” Bryce paused. “Did your new teeth all grow in?” he asked, a small smile working into his face.  
“They did!” Ben beamed, thrilled Bryce had noticed.   
Bryce laughed. “I’m happy for you!”  
“Hey, we were about to see if there was any food to be had in the kitchens. Want to come?” Wyatt asked. Paul followed with his hands in his pockets.  
“Sure,” Bryce said, dropping his bag on his bed.  
He followed the boys out, relief and happiness flooding his chest and warming his cheeks.


	17. Thomas

In the weeks following Christmas break, Thomas had taken to studying in the common room, often by himself. Occasionally students lounged in the open area, but most either had business elsewhere or stayed in their rooms.  
Thomas preferred to sit at the desk facing the windows into the Black Lake. The mermaid he had befriended visited him often, and he loved showing her new spells he had learned in class. She would swim in loops and throw her head back, fangs exposed in what Thomas eventually learned was something akin to laughing. Sometimes she would press things to the window, spreading seaweed out on the glass for him to inspect, showing him teeth from some fanged creature, shells and rocks with pieces of gemstone running through them and more.   
Once, she came by toting a whole spear, and brought other things similar upon seeing Thomas’s interest.  
He was waiting for his mermaid friend to appear one night when Leo and Owen came into the common room, following a group of fifth-years.  
“It’s true. I don’t even know how the Gryffindors got it, but it pours as much butterbeer as you want,” one of them said.  
“I wonder where they get it from. It couldn’t be from Hogwarts, could it?” asked another.  
“Who cares? All we need to know is if you two can get it,” said the third, eyeing Owen and Leo coldly.  
“It’s in the Gryffindor common room, isn't it?” Leo said. “Nobody’d let us in, especially if they saw us going after the tap.”  
The first fifth-year stood over Leo, and Thomas was surprised to see him cower.  
“You aren’t much of a Slytherin than, are you _Leo_. What a poor name for a snake, and you aren’t even brave like a lion anyway.”  
“We’re just saying it’s difficult, is all,” Owen said, standing up to the fifth-year, until the boy rounded on him.  
“Oh, is that so? Its just difficult?” the boy put his hands to his eyes and mimed crying. “Waah, waah, you two are babies. You think you can come along with us just because you're a Slytherin? You have to _prove_ yourself.”  
“I can do it,” Thomas said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop the bad ideas from forming. He stood and walked over to the group, all of them looking at him incredulously.  
“You? The half-blood?” the second fifth-year said. “You couldn’t steal a wand from a muggle.”  
Thomas frowned. “Fine, if you don’t think so, then I’ve got a deal for you. I steal the tap, _everyone_ has to stop making fun of me.”  
“And if you don’t?” the third boy asked, chuckling along with his mates.  
“I’ll let you snap my wand,” Thomas said. “I’ll leave Hogwarts and Slytherin house will be pure-blooded again.”  
All five of the boys in front of him sucked air, shocked and almost unsure. Thomas sat in front of them smiling. He calmly held out his hand.  
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.  
The first fifth-year boy grasped it tightly.  
“Deal,” he growled.  
/  
“You’ve done _what_?” Cygnus demanded in a loud whisper, standing outside the library with Thomas.  
“I’m going to borrow the tap from the Gryffindors, is all,” Thomas said nonchalantly, looking around. “They’ll never notice.”  
Thomas suddenly left, walking quickly to catch up with a Gryffindor boy.  
“Hey, Michael!” he called after him. The boy turned and smiled, greeting Thomas happily. Cygnus followed, scowling all the while.  
“I know you had said this nearly a week ago, but that party your house was throwing, is the invitation still good?” Thomas asked good-naturedly.  
“Oh, of course!” Michael said, beaming. “Nobody believed me when I said I could get a Slytherin to come! You’ve just earned me three galleons!” Michael paused, looking a bit embarrassed. “I hope you aren’t upset by it.”  
“Not at all,” Thomas said. “I’m just happy to go. It’s tomorrow night, isn't it?”  
“Yeah, come after curfew,” Michael glanced at Cygnus, faltering for a moment. “Um, and you could bring your friend, too.”  
“Not interested.” Cygnus growled, and Michael looked relieved.  
“Okay, well. I’ll see you there, Thomas!” Michael walked off.  
“You’re going to scare away all my friends,” Thomas joked lightly.  
“I didn’t like him,” Cygnus mumbled. Thomas just laughed.  
“Come on, I’ve got one more stop to make.”  
/  
Both boys were exhausted by the time they had reached the very top of the astronomy tower, pausing outside the star gazing dome to catch their breath.  
“What did you need to come all the way up here for?” Cygnus panted.  
“A friend. I need her help,” Thomas said, finally breathing easily. “Gryffindors won’t just hand the tap to a Slytherin. Even they’re not that trusting.”  
“Of course not, they’d need to be bloody stupid,” Cygnus growled.  
“So I’ll just have to be a Ravenclaw for a few moments, won’t I?” Thomas grinned and knocked on the door.  
After a few moments, a blonde girl poked her head out.  
“Oh, Thomas,” she said, a smile easing her sever features as she came out to stand in the hall. “How wonderful to see you. You know, I had just read in my tea the other day an old friend would be coming to me for help. I do hope everything is all right.”  
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. It’s good to see you Yvette,” Thomas said with a grin. “But you’re quite right, I do need your help. I wanted to conduct a bit of a social experiment, and was hoping to borrow a Ravenclaw tie.”  
Yvette’s eyes lit up. “How intriguing. You’re sure to find a strong result, no doubt. Even I’ve seen how the colors you wear makes people treat you differently,” she slipped her tie off, holding out the blue and bronze. “Here, take this one, I won’t need it for class.”  
‘Thank you so much, Yvette. I’ll be sure to tell you all about the results.”  
“I’ll hold you to that, Thomas,” she smiled and tilted her head. “Although do be careful. Gryffindors aren’t as kind as they let others think.”  
Cygnus raised his eyebrows in surprise and Thomas nodded.  
“Of course. Happy star gazing,” Thomas said, leading the way back down the stairs.  
“How did she know?” Cygnus demanded.   
“Of the few people who claim to be psychic, I think she might actually be the real deal.” Thomas mused, looking at the tie in his hand.  
/  
The following night, his dorm had the three older boys in it, all watching while Thomas prepared to go to the Gryffindor party.  
“What’s the extra tie for?” one of them demanded as he stuffed it into his pocket.  
“Whatever I need it for,” he answered vaguely. He took a deep breath. Time to go.  
“Well, I’m off. I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, walking towards the door. “If I’m not, well then I suppose I've gotten caught. Either way, you win, don’t you?”  
Thomas left, a small smile on his face. He could do this, and then the rest of his house would finally make their peace with him.  
Getting to Gryffindor tower was difficult on it’s own, dodging head boys and girls, and a few professors doing their last rounds.  
When he finally did make it to the Fat Lady, she eyed him suspiciously.  
“Password?” she demanded.  
“Butterbeer,” Thomas said with a grin. The Fat Lady lit up.  
“Oooh, you’re here for that. Wonderful! Enjoy, young man!” the portrait swung forward and the noise of a Gryffindor party spilled into the corridor.  
Thomas climbed into the crowd of red and gold, making his way through the crush of bodies until he finally found Michael.  
“Hey!” he shouted over the noise, and Michael whooped loudly, pulling Thomas over to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.  
“See, lads!” he bellowed. “What did I tell you?! A Slytherin! A good one! Now pay up!”  
Michael’s friends all passed over galleons, and Michael laughed along with Thomas, who was all caught up in the energy of the party.   
Thomas laughed, glancing around the blazing room and finally locking his eyes on an unassuming wooden plaque, that just happened to have a tap sticking out of it.  
“I’m going to get a drink!” Thomas shouted over the noise, and Michael nodded, giving him a shove in the general direction of the tap.  
Thomas veered slightly off course, casually and quickly slipping off his tie and trading it for Yvette’s.   
He walked up to the tap, attended by a few older Gryffindors.  
“That’s a special bit of magic!” he said, nodding to the tap. Smiles split all of their faces.  
“Isn’t it? It was a parting gift from one of our old head boys. He never could get his hands on enough butterbeer to go around,” one of the girls said, pouring a pint and handing it to Thomas.  
“It pours beer too, but we’ve been trying to get it to do fire whiskey too!” one of the boys said.  
Thomas took the opportunity.  
“You know, I was talking with one of the older students in my house. She thinks she can get it to pour anything you want,” he lied, watching the eyes of the Gryffindors go round. His conscience twinged at the lie, but he was tired of being bullied. That and he would be returning the tap eventually.  
“If you wanted, I could bring it to her. I’m sure the experiment would only take a few days, but I don’t want to promise anything.”  
The Gryffindors paused, looking at one another.  
“Hang on,” the girl said, walking away.  
“You really think your friend can make this better?” the boy asked.  
“I think so. She definitely won’t make it worse,” Thomas said, shrugging.  
The girl came back, her face a bit flushed.  
“Ogden says it’s good,” she said, pouring a few extra pints before lifting the plaque off the wall and handing it to Thomas. It was lighter than he expected.  
“The party has plenty to go around for tonight, so long as you bring it around by the end of the week, it’ll be just fine.”  
“Great, thank you!” Thomas said with his best grin. “I hope this works!”  
he turned and marched out, smiling genuinely at anyone who shot him a suspicious glance.  
He stepped out of the portrait hole and it swung shut, leaving him in silence and darkness.  
He made his way all the way to the dungeons, so late now that all the professors and prefects had gone to bed.  
He casually strode into his room, a light smile on his face at the awe on the other Slytherin’s face.  
“What are you sitting there for? Pour yourself a pint,” he chuckled.  
The older Slytherin conjured a glass and pulled the tap, shouting in excitement as butterbeer flowed freely. He took a sip and passed it to his friends, whooping.  
“This is the real deal!” he turned back to Thomas. “How did you manage it?”  
Thomas shrugged, lowering the plaque so they could see his Ravenclaw tie. “It’s all about knowing what certain things will get you.”  
“That’s bloody brilliant that is,” one of the other boys said.  
“So, about our deal?” Thomas prompted lightly. The older boy chuckled to himself.  
“You don’t need us for that. Once the house hears you’re snagged that from the Gryffindors, nobody will doubt you again.”  
“Good,” Thomas said, putting the plaque down on his bed so he can draw his wand and affix it to the wall.  
“Well, if that’ll be all chaps, I've had a busy night,” Thomas said, turning back towards the boys.  
“You’re something, Ferrara,” the older Slytherin said, following his friends out of the door.  
Thomas felt his heart skip a beat in delight. He had actually called him by his name!  
Cygnus clapped him on the back.  
“Excellent,” he said, looking up at the tap for a moment before turning and climbing into bed.   
Owen and Leo remained standing, looking back and forth between the tap and Thomas.  
“How…?” Owen said faintly.  
“Haven’t you two gotten it yet?” Cygnus demanded from bed. “Don’t underestimate him.”  
Thomas chuckled and got ready for bed himself. The rest of the year would be easy.


End file.
